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I Seeing Other Americans I 



BY 



FREDERICK M. DEARBORN 



IHustnUed milh One Hundred anil Twi> Phototjraphs and One Map 




NEW YORK 

PRIVATELY PRINTED 

1914) 



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SEEING OTHER AMERICANS 



;- 



ATL/^.MTfC 
ClkH 




AT LANTiC 
C LAN 



Our Course Down the West Coast, Across the Continent and Up the East Coast. 



Seeing Other Americans 



BY 



FREDERICK M. DEARBORN 



Illustrated with. One Hundred and Two Photographs and, One Map 



NEW YORK 

PRIVATELY PRINTED 

1914 



FZZZS 
'JD2A 



lh-)^'^(^ 



Copyright, 1914, 
By Frederick M. Dearborn. 



PrintCil in U. S. A. 



MINDEH-BUKKERT 

PRINTING COMPANY, 

NEW YORK. 



DEC 23 1914 



^ 



>CI.a:}91091 



TO 

Slofin C OSuIicfe 



This record of a sight-seeing trip which, as the unexpected 
happened, became a unique experience, is put in book form as 
a tribute to an ideal travelling companion. 



0?ie hundred copies of this book have been 
printed. This copy is No. 



You will gather by reading these few pages that 
they comprise an informal account of places visited, 
scenes witnessed and people met with. The text is 
taken from letters hurriedly written to my dear ones 
at home and hence lacks even a semblance of literary 
style. I am indebted to my old friend, Hugo Kafka, 
for drawing, after my unskilled suggestions, a map 
of South America and for conceiving a cover design. 
With the exception of two views, the photographs 
herein employed, although unfortunately much re- 
duced, are entirely from my own camera. They 
were chosen from about two hundred and fifty ex- 
posures taken during the trip. If your memory, 
curiosity or interest is aroused by the perusal of 
this wee book or if you are afforded a few minutes 
of pleasure by peeping at its informality, the perpe- 
trator of these lines will be the happier thereby. 



SEEING OTHER AMERICANS 

TRAVEL, by which I mean going anywhere at any 
time and watching people, scenery and things, has 
always beckoned me on. I believe it to be the best 
educator for those willing to learn and the best tonic for 
those needing one. It is not necessary to go to Europe or 
the Orient to get the benefits mentioned, for our great coun- 
try offers nearly everything of scenery, natural or artificial, 
and it would take some time, pains and expense to investi- 
gate even superficially the interesting spots of North Amer- 
ica. The West Indies and Central America are close at 
hand and can afford the traveler most attractive variety. 
Then there is South America — but who ever heard of a sane 
man going to the tropics in hot weather. The truth is, 
winter exists south of the equator in our warmer months, 
and the climate of most of the West Indies is very even 
because of the prevailing winds. Thus in July and August 
one need not expect more than 85° F. in Panama and Colon, 
while I can testify that old New York with Dame Humid- 
ity is some bird of a hot house at the proper time. Enough 
of the weather, for you will hear more anon. 

Having meandered extensively during my vacation peri- 
ods for the past twenty years, it was quite natural to under- 
take a trip to South America, wherein, according to the 
wise ones, lie untold riches awaiting development and at- 

[1] 



tendant u2:)oii the real opening of our Canal. (The Euro- 
pean conflagration had not started when this was written.) 
I do not refer to vulgar riches such as mines produce or 
the merchants' reward, trade, but to the traveler's quest, new 
scenes and peoples. It is alarming how few, we of the U. S., 
go to South America, except when business calls, but it is 
not surprising when one considers that the means of getting 
there were not first class up to a few years ago, and even now 
are crude for portions of the trip. Usually where the Amer- 
ican goes, good hotels, decent boats and comfortable trains 
follow; so an awakening may be expected in Latin America 
when we appreciate its scenes and business opportunities. 

A member of the New York bar, herein known as the 
Judge, and your correspondent determined to see South 
America via Panama before too many others did so. Under 
the circumstances of our civil conditions, the summer was 
alone available, so we determined to see all we could in 
twelve weeks of traveling. Jidj" eleventh saw us on the 
United Fruit Company's steamer "Pastores," one of the 
trio of 9,000 tonners, new and especially built for tropical 
travel. This line is unique in that it represents the logical 
results of the need of or desire for bananas. This $50,- 
000,000 corporation operates nearly one hundred boats — only 
a few of which fly the American flag, but all are Yankee- 
owned or leased from English or other European concerns. 
No one should cry out against "Big Business" without seeing 
what this company has done with its advanced ideas and 
concentrated energy in Central America and the West In- 
dies to develop trade, civilize the natives, build towns and 
railroads, and incidentally keep peace among some of the 
bucolic republics. My trip of two years ago to Jamaica, 
Panama and Costa Rica was an eye-opener in this respect. 

[2] 



A few minutes after twelve we pushed off from Man- 
hattan and sailed down the bay, out of the Narrows and 
by Sandy Hook. Sixty-three passengers where one hun- 
dred and fifty could be accommodated made travel easy, like 
a Pullman with only the lowers occupied. All of these 
Fruit Company ships carry a general cargo from the United 
States and a banana cargo back, while about twenty of the 
larger and newer boats carry the incidental item of human 
beings. Sultry weather in New York presaged fog at sea, 
and sure enough by 4 P.M. it closed down, and the toot-toot 
of our whistle never ceased until about seven, when the 
weather cleared. Later, the appearance of the moon made 
us feel quite tranquil. I always did like the moon, for she 
seems so much more reasonable than the sun, for moonlight 
does not interfere with privacy. Sunday brought us, ac- 
cording to the skipper, fine weather, a moderate sea, and a 
brisk S.W. wind. Noon logged 361 miles from New York 
— 341 from Scotland Light. A few bold spirits have al- 
ready embraced shuffle-board and quoits, but most of us 
are content to sit still and watch the sad sea waves. This 
is a quiet boat, no boisterous souls aboard, although inquiries 
are being made about "planters' punches" and other endemic 
trouble-breeders. The passengers are about evenly divided 
between those who are touring for a vacation, those who 
are returning home, and those who are going back to the 
various American-owned mines in South America. The mid- 
dle group is interesting because it is difficult to decipher just 
how much Caucasian, Mongolian, Indian or Negro blood is 
necessary to make the perfect being. 

Monday, July 13th. — Incidentally the thirteenth trip of 
this boat and a great day otherwise — my birthday. The 
a la carte method, so unlike most liners, is productive of 

[3] 



much good, for it prevents overloading of one's digestion. 
As you pay for what you eat, usually a sane attitude toward 
food is observed. The all-round tendency on shipboard is 
to overeat. We find that $2.2.5 per day does the trick well, 
for the charges have been reduced since the inauguration 
of this sj'stem. The food is as good as on anj-^ boat of its 
size, and the service first class — mostly English stewards. 
The skipper says at noon that the weather is fine, brisk, 
S.SW. wind and choppy sea. Distance covered, 371 miles 
for the day. Among the ladies and the Latins there are 
some signs of indisposition, with actual evidence of mal de 
mer on the lower decks. We ate onlj-^ two meals this day — 
breakfast, mostly of fruit, at ten, and an early birthday 
supper of fresh broiled lobster and a quart of Cordon- 
Rouge, the latter at the Judge's urgent request to duly 
celebrate the day. On board are two Jersey mosquitoes from 
Hackensack, patients of mine, and Mr. and Mrs. T , fel- 
low- passengers on the "Turrialba" two years ago. Thus is 
demonstrated again that the traveling world is small, and one 
must never expect to leave New York without being well 
chaperoned. We have connecting rooms on the boat deck 
which we were fortunate to secure at the minimum fare. 
There are only eight cabins on this deck, and this is by far the 
best location on the boat. We have passed a couple of 
boats each day, but too far off to see well even with strong 
glasses, which should always be carried. The wind has 
shifted and we no longer get the strenuous breeze we have 
enjoyed on the starboard side for two days. Fine moon- 
light night but to bed at 9 P.ISI. 

The next day is fine; smooth sea and E.SE. w^nds, with 
376 miles logged. At 6.40 we pass to our right Watlings 
Island, the San Salvador of Columbus, where he landed on 

[4] 



October twelfth, 1492. At 10 A.M., to our left, we pass 
Bird Rock Light House and enter Crooked Island passage, 
with Crooked and Acklen Islands to our left. Thus we 
continue for some hours passing through the Bahamas, be- 
longing to England, but usually too far away to note except 
with glasses. The last island to our left is Great Inagua, 
from which, about 7 P.M., we approach Windward Passage 
between Cuba and Haiti. The Cape Maisi Light, on the 
eastern extremity of Cuba, is plainly seen about 8.20 on our 
right, while the distant shores of the Black Republics are 
always visible on a clear day. As much as we enjoy being 
near terra firma, I can't say that any one would wish to 
step ashore on any of these long, flat, inhospitable coral 
isles to remain for many hours. About the only communi- 
cation these out-of-the-way Bahama Islands have with each 
other is the monthly mail service from Nassau. It was upon 
the "Pastores" that Brother Withington embarked last 
April for a cruise, acting meanwhile as ship's surgeon, and 
he certainly left an enviable "rep" behind him, for everyone, 
from the Captain to the barber, was glad to hear of him and 
give us good attention accordingly. The lovely breeze that 
we encountered after leaving Cape Maisi, as we entered the 
Caribbean Sea, gave us the sensation of a hurricane, but 
it passed off shortly, leaving a perfect starlit heaven. We 
saw Venus, Jupiter, and all our northern stellar combina- 
tions, but looked in vain for the Southern Cross, finding 
only the large, false cross. 

July fifteenth, at 8 A.M., we rounded the light at the 
eastern point of Jamaica and beheld that mountainous island 
clad, as usual, in tropical haze. This is not fog, for they 
don't have those joyful mists of colder climes here in the 
tropics. This region extends from the northern Tropic of 

[5] 



Cancer, just north of Cuba, to the southern Tropic of Capri- 
corn. Passing a few small steamers and sailing vessels, we 
pick up our colored pilot from a four-oared boat about oppo- 
site the lighthouse near which lie the remnants of two 
German steamers. Port Royal, the Buccaneer's old strong- 
hold and place for all sorts of real villainy, now boasts a 
British fort with a garrison of heavy artillery. It is situ- 
ated on a sandy prong of land running jjarallel to and con- 
nected with the mainland to the east, making Kingston Har- 
bor. AVhile not as beautiful nor as useful as Port Antonio 
Harbor on the north shore, it will serve the purpose well 
enough until the sand-bar is washed awaj% for it is gradually 
disappearing. The port doctor comes aboard from a row- 
boat with much style and many flags. H.M.S. "Berwick," a 
small cruiser, is anchored in the harbor, lending a colonial 
paternalism to the scene. After landing we hired for $20 
a Pierce auto, vintage of 1911, for a trip to Spanish Town 
and Bog Walk, which lie to the west of Kingston. Most 
tourists go to the Hope Gardens in Kingston or to Castle- 
ton Gardens via Constance Springs, a twenty-mile run ; but 
no matter how beautiful plants may be, I prefer history, as 
does the Judge. So we — the Jersey Mosquitoes, the Judge 
and myself — motor to the Myrtle Bank, a modern, well- 
built hotel, for a planter's punch made of rum, limes, sugar, 
water and ice. Duly refreshed, back we go into the town, 
down King Street to the post-office, where thirty postal 
cards are mailed. While waiting, the fire department — not 
so medieval as the European outfits but hardly up to Ameri- 
can notions — chases by and all Kingston follows. We like- 
wise, and find a railroad shop in trouble. I might say here 
that Jamaica is a very old Crown colony with 8.50,000 
people, of whom less than 5,000 are all white. The bulk of 

[6] 




Old English Cathedral, Spanish Town. 2. H.M.S. "Berwick" in Kingston Harbor. 3. Trop- 
ical vegetation, Spanish Town. 4. Scene on the Bog Walk, Jamaica. 5. Myrtle Bank 
Hotel, Kingston. 6. Pilot coming aboard off Kingston. 7. Kingston, Jamaica. 



the remainder are pure black and some thousands, repre- 
senting much of the brains of the island, are of every shade 
from near white to ebony. There are over 1,000 miles of 
good auto roads, some fair small country hotels and the fine 
Fruit Co. hotels at Port Antonio and Kingston. The island 
is policed by a negro constabulary with white officers and 
garrisoned by one or more battalions of the West Indian 
Regiment, which is also found in other parts of the West 
Indies as well as on the West Coast of Africa. Contrary to 
most of the negro inhabitants of the smaller British West 
Indian islands and the City folks of Jamaica, the rural popu- 
lation speaks a language which is not describable, but may be 
termed English if you leave out all the vowels. Bananas 
and other tropical fruits, logwood, coffee (Blue Mountain 
brand) and sugar are the principal exports, but the negro 
is so lazy that it will take some more American energy to 
wake him up. As it is, the United Fruit Co. and the build- 
ing of the Canal have done more for Jamaica in the past 
ten years than any other industrial agencies. Some believe 
that the large number of Canal laborers returning to 
Jamaica, Barbados, St. Lucia and other West Indian 
islands will present a problem difficult to solve, but the 
natural laziness of the race will, I believe, settle the matter 
in a short time. 

Our thirteen mile auto trip to Spanish Town, while hot 
and dusty, was just as interesting to me as ever before be- 
cause native costumes, homes, plantations and vehicles are 
always unique. Small thatched huts with very little win- 
dow space, in the midst of a banana grove or other luxuriant 
growth, presents the common picture, wherein the men rest 
while the women with their donkeys go forth to trade and 
barter. The old capital of Spanish Town is more interest- 

[7] 



ing than Kingston, with its 3.5,000 people, hecause the earth- 
quake, which utterly destroyed the latter in 1907 and neces- 
sitated the building of a new city, did not disturb the oldness 
or peace of the former. We visited the Cathedral, the seat 
of the Archbishop of the West Indies, a Church of England 
prelate, and the old government buildings about the pretty 
little square park. On one side is the monument to Admiral 
Rodney, who was instrumental in saving the Indies from 
the French away back before our Revolution. The other 
sides contain the Governor's old residence, Parliament 
buildings, courts, etc. From here we motor to Bog Walk, 
part way along the Rio Cobre, abounding in prettj^ scenery, 
high cliffs, tropical shrubbery and surrounded by the lower 
ridges of the Blue Mountains which at their best reach 7,000 
feet in the center of the island. Power-houses and drainage 
canals are seen along this ride, and, in the winter season, 
many tourists go rafting on that portion of the stream be- 
low the dam. Returning over the same road we note, about 
five miles from Kingston, Tom Cringle's immense cotton- 
wood tree. This author, whose real name was JNIichael Scott, 
wrote the "Log" and the "Cruise of the Midge," all about 
the Spanish Main. Back to Kingston, to the Parish Church, 
largely reconstructed since 1907, we disturb the very English 
curate so far as to get him to remove the carpet from the 
nave and reveal the stone tablet covering the remains of 
John Benbow, Admiral of the White, one of England's 
navy heroes, who died as the result of a w'ound received in 
action with the French in these waters in 1703. After some 
tobacco shopping, for Jamaica makes good mild cigars, we 
reach the wharf at 4.30 and watch the loading of a mixed 
cargo of chickens, negroes (deck passengers for Colon), 
fruit and a lone horse, whose transportation delays us half 

[8] 



an hour and consumes the best endeavors of a dozen humans. 
As soon as we leave the harbor, we commence to bob in all 
directions, dipping and rolling, which, I understand, is 
proper in the Caribbean Sea but which I never experienced 
in these waters before. 

All the next day the white caps play about, some flying 
fish amuse us and the deck is frequently at a foolish angle. 
About 75% of the passengers cannot make the dining-room, 
so it is as bad as I have seen without a storm. We are told 
it is 550 miles to Colon, making, roughly, 2,010 miles, in- 
cluding our detour to Kingston, since leaving the "Only 
Burg." To the west of our course some sixty miles lies the 
rocky reef, hardly an island, of Roncador, where in the 
early nineties that famous old wooden sloop of the Civil 
War, the Kearsarge, met her nautical finish. This isle is so 
infested with sea birds that it is said that a lone man might 
better become a bird before stopping there for any length 
of time. 

July 17th. — Going into Colon harbor after an absence 
of nearly two years, I was impressed with the fact that the 
breakwater that protects the entrance to the Canal from the 
northern winds was longer and apparently complete, that 
there are new houses, especially the splendid Washington 
Hotel on the sea-front, and that the new concrete wharfs and 
docks of Cristobal, the American city adjoining, are par- 
tially in use. As usual, we spend nearly two hours riding 
about, revisiting old spots, only to find the town as cheap 
looking as ever. American enterprises have progressed, 
for Cristobal is to be second only to Balbao, the Pacific 
terminal, when the "Big Job" is done. At eleven sharp, we 
leave for Panama on the 47 miles of road owned by Uncle 
Samuel. The road-bed is now permanently located and well 

[9] 



done at that. Of course, all is changed since my last visit — 
all is now water in the Gatnn Lake, whereas formerly it 
was filled with numerous villages, cranes, shovels, drills and 
hundreds of workmen. Xow you see the finished product, 
just the top of the concrete locks with the fascinating con- 
crete poles for electric illumination. By one o'clock we are 
in the Tivoli Hotel at Ancon, run by the U. S., and have 
rooms on the top floor overlooking Panama Bay. There is 
some mix up about our Pacific sailings — so down we walk 
to the agent and finally select a cabin on the top deck of the 
Pacific Steam J»favigation Company's "Oriana," an 8,000 
ton boat, one of the largest on the coast. She has never come 
as far north before, but the approaching opening of the 
Canal means many changes in schedules as well as in other 
details. The usual visit to the Plazas, photographer, Hotel 
Central for a drink and the Cathedral are made. 

The next morning at 8.20 we left Panama's splendid new 
concrete R.R. station and journeyed to Paraiso, just beyond 
the Pedro Miguel locks, where we boarded the launch 
"Louise" for a nine mile trip through Culebra Cut. It is all 
finished, with the water 85 feet deep and channel 300 feet 
wide, except at Cucaracha, where the slide is still demanding 
the attention of the greatest dredges known to this age. The 
excavated material is taken by lighters and tugs into one 
of the many inlets of Gatun Lake and dumped. Even now, 
at the slide, the channel is deep and wide enough for the 
passage of a 10,000 ton boat. We passed on the left hand 
Culebra, where Col. Goethals still lives, although they have 
torn down his own house and he is living in temporary quar- 
ters preparatory to coming to the permanent canal quarters 
at Balboa. Next we passed the remnants of Empire — once 
the largest inland canal builders' town, then Las Cascades 

[10] 





':pillllAMJJI!!MJ!r 



Steam shovel at Cucaracha Slide. 2. Old French dredge, Chagres River. 3. The new 

n^.r„i°'f t %^T^^ V"^, ^'^^^^' '" C"''^'""^ '^"t- ^- Washington Hotel, Colon. 6. 
merged forest, Gatun Lake. 7. Roosevelt Avenue, Cristobal. 



Cris- 
Sub- 



with Camp Otis — the infantry headquarters — although most 
of the soldiers are at the locks and terminals, then Camp 
Elliott, the Marines' old camp, and, lastly, the remnants of 
Bas Obispo. Now under the Gamboa railroad bridge and 
up the changeable Rio Chagres, which is much more slug- 
gish than when I last saw it. It supplies most of the water 
for Gatun Lake and here, as well as in all parts of the lake, 
will be found telephone stations whence readings of the 
water level are regularly reported. Going up the Chagres, 
we pass the ruins of Las Cruces, the former head of naviga- 
tion for all boats, and the historic town from which led a 
trail to old Panama in the days of the Spanish Main. We 
steam up five miles to the Zone line and back again to Gam- 
boa, where a noon train is taken for Panama and luncheon. 
A young man detailed by the U. S. accompanied seven of 
us tourists (three with cameras) and splendidly told every- 
thing, just as in the days of the sight-seeing trains and 
rubber-neck cars. One keeps quiet in the middle of the day 
but late afternoon found us trotting about Panama, its old 
wall dating from 1581, observing the "Spigotties" outside 
of the President's House, wandering into and about the 
churches, National Theatre, University Club and National 
Institute. 

On Sunday the lottery drawings are on tap at 10 A.M., 
and a bull fight parade, preparatory to the real article, also 
took place. About 10.30 we motored in a Buick to old 
Panama sacked by that gentleman butcher, Sir Henry Mor- 
gan, in 1579. The road was splendid asphalt and macadam 
and the ten miles traversed a pretty pasture hill country 
not unlike New England, until near the ruins, where tropical 
vegetation held sway. The ruins are quite extensive, espe- 
cially the old arched bridge, the Cathedral and Casa Reale. 

[11] 



The location of old Panama is superb, on high ground over- 
looking the Pacific. Many wealthy Panamanians live in 
the suburb Las Sabannas for all the dry season, motoring 
daily to and from and returning to tow^n for the rainy season. 
We continued our ride to Balboa and saw the new perma- 
nent dwellings for white or "gold" employees, the machine 
shops, dry docks, piers and the splendidly situated Adminis- 
tration Building on the side of the much chopped-off Ancon 
Hill. All these new structures are of reinforced concrete 
to withstand earthquakes, revolutions, and sundry other 
tropical disturbances. At four, nine Americans, all bound 
for the South American mines, except the Judge and nn^- 
self, hacked out to the Arena to see "real" Spanish bull 
fighters do three poor bulls. I have seen two exhibitions of 
this character before, both in southern France, where the 
use of horses added to the excitement. At best it is tame 
sport and we all rejoiced when a poor doomed bull knocked 
down one of his tormentors and almost got him. Two dol- 
lars each for this hour's exhibition is almost as high com- 
paratively as the New York opera. 

July 20th. — Another fine day, so at 9 A.M. we slipped 
aboard the launch "Pandora" for a ten mile cruise to Taboga 
Island, the health resort of the isthmus. The President of 
the Republic likewise went to his villa on the island for a 
month's rest. After rounding the city, with its quaint old 
walls standing since 1581, we ran close to Naos, Perico and 
Flamenco Islands, which are connected with Balboa by the 
three-mile breakwater, forming the Pacific entrance to the 
Canal. The fortifications on these islands are to be the most 
powerful known. They are of concrete construction sunk 
in the top of these rocky island hills and will command a 
firing radius of fifteen miles. Taboga is as large as all the 

[12] 



small islands in this vicinity put together, but has a popula- 
tion of only 800, mostly devoted to fishing and fruit raising. 
The Hotel Aspinwall, beautifully situated and accommodat- 
ing 150 guests, is the old sanitarium of the I. C. C, but is 
now run by the Commissary department just as the Wash- 
ington and Tivoli are. Hence it is well run — the yams, pine- 
apples and mangoes being the finest I ever tasted. Our stay 
was all too short, for at 12.30 the launch supposedly started 
for Panama but spent an hour jockeying with a rival launch 
for the passenger trade. In common with these ports, pas- 
sengers are taken to and from vessels by row boats, which 
charge anywhere from ten to twenty-five cents for so doing. 
There are no docks and the beaches are such that no craft 
but a small flat bottomed boat can be used for landing pur- 
poses. It was rather fascinating to watch the two launches 
dart hither and thither whenever a boat shot out from land 
with its prospective cargo. After visits to the photographer, 
banker and other essential people, we spent the remainder 
of this splendid day loafing. At 5 P.M. received a tele- 
phone message from Governor Goethals that he would see 
us at Culebra to-morrow, so I hope to give you my own im- 
pression of that benevolent despot. 

The next morning is devoted to a careful inspection of 
the famous flat arch of the old San Domingo Church in 
Panama City. This structure has stood over 300 yeSrs, 
despite earthquakes, fires, revolutions and, most wonderful 
of all, without mortar being used between the stones. Last 
evening we heard the news of another accident incident to 
the construction of the canal, the drill dredge "Teredo" 
being blown up by premature dynamite explosion and five 
men, four of them white Americans, were killed and fifteen 
more injured. This occurred in Culebra Cut at the famous 

[13] 



slide and just two daj's before, almost to the hour, we had 
been there and noticed the great boulder which was being 
drilled for blasting. It is interesting to note that in the past 
seven years the health of the Istliinian population has been 
excellent, with no epidemics, but the loss of life from acci- 
dent has been much larger, although even this is propor- 
tionately small. 

At three o'clock we embarked for Culebra on the shuttle 
train which crosses the canal on a wooden trestle at Paraiso. 
This bridge and the line running up to Las Cascades on the 
left side of the Canal will be given up when the Canal offi- 
cially opens. The present headquarters of the Governor and 
his residence at Culebra are to be removed to Balboa, the for- 
mer to be a three-story concrete building overlooking the 
entrance to the Canal. Reaching Culebra station we rode 
up the hill behind a pair of stout government mules and in- 
troduced ourselves to the Governor's Secretary, Mr. White. 
Six people had to see him before we did and these consumed 
a half hour while we gazed out of the windows of the old 
wooden administration building down the Cut with its slide 
and the sunken drill "Teredo," which since yesterday has 
blocked the main channel. They expect to raise it to-morrow 
and go ahead at Mother Earth as before. 

Governor Goethals gave us a very happy half hour of 
hi^ valuable time, laughed and chatted about our mutual 
friends and his New York City College days, referring to 
his class of '77 as making him feel old. The Governor is 
above the average height, well built but not fat, a fine face 
with searching clear eyes, snow white hair and a close 
cropped grayish mustache. He was dressed all in white 
and talked quietly, to the point, answering my many ques- 
tions and having a manner of decision which stamps him as 

[14] 




New park and a section of Panama. 3. Ruins, old Panama. 3. Peruvian navy, Callao har- 
bor, i. Stone bridge, old Panama. 5. Naos Island, strongly fortified, to protect the 
Pacific entrance to the Canal, fi. Casa Reale, old Panama. 7". .V bull fight in Panama. 



the "Big Man for the Big Job." He intimated his willing- 
ness to help us see anything we had not, told me of the 
leper colony at Palo Seco, consisting of about 80 persons, 
all gathered in these parts, stated that he expected the Canal 
to be officially opened about March, 1915, and that the total 
number of employees at the present time, of all ranks, was 
about 28,000. Col. Goethals as Governor combines the 
executive, administrative, civil, military and other functions 
enjoyed by the old Isthmian Commission, the Civil Governor 
and all other functionaries. When I was here in 1912 about 
44,000 was the maximum employed. There are at present 
about 2,000 soldiers here — the majority coming from the 
10th Infantry—and they guard all locks which are under 
martial law. It is impossible for me to dilate further upon 
the canal, for if I said one-tenth what I have in my system, 
there would be no room for other items. 

July 22nd is the day we are to start our trip down the 
West Coast. There are three lines running south from 
Balboa on regular schedules, and formerly they dovetailed 
into each other's plans, but just recently there has been a 
split and now there is a scramble for business. It is unusual 
for a home boat, that is, one of the English boats bound for 
Liverpool, to come up as far north as Panama, but the 
"Oriana" is the second one so to do, I believe with the real 
object of going through the Canal, but not being officially 
open, our good ship must needs pass back to Callao, 1,376 
miles away. Fortunately, she makes none of the stops made 
by other boats, so our waiting until Wednesday is, in reality, 
no loss of time. The three lines are the Peruvian, controlled 
by W. R. Grace & Co.; the Pacific Steam Navigation Co., 
owned by the Royal Mail, and the Chilean line. "Calerto" is 
the Spanish term applied to a craft that stops at all ports, 

[15] 



while "expresso" means one making three or four stops be- 
tween Balboa and Callao. Our boat is even more express 
than the last. Our stateroom is on the top deck, with the 
dining-room, while the promenade deck is above. The boat 
is not built for tropical service, so the first twenty-four hours 
from Panama, we suffered more than any night heretofore. 
Of course, this is not a typical West Coast boat as old trav- 
elers understand it, but a decided luxury. Arriving aboard 
at 11 A.M. we had until 6 P.M. to wait in the Canal channel 
opposite the wonderful new machine shops at Balbao. Then 
passing out the channel with the Naos breakwater at our left, 
we soon reached the Canal channel limit — an even fifty miles 
from the Toro light in the Caribbean Sea. We anchored 
off the entrance until 8.30 P.M. waiting for four passengers 
who had arrived at Colon on the "Metapan" and who had 
to hustle across the isthmus. They were the former Japan- 
ese Consul General in New York and his family bound for 
his new station at Valparaiso. 

The next day, our first on the broad Pacific, was cooler, 
but every one was lazy and content to read. We are out of 
sight of land, the coast of Colombia being fifty miles to our 
left. Colombia and Ecuador are dead commercially, because 
of revolution, pestilence, and poor transportation facilities, 
and yet they are said to offer most wonderful opportunities 
in varied lines of business. 

July 24th is colder yet, but this ocean is truly pacific, 
as smooth as one could wish. We are all playing deck golf, 
quoits and deck tennis and have warm clothes on. Although 
we passed the equator at 11.30 A.M., one would not guess it. 
Our vessel can carry about 300 passengers, but has no second 
or third class and onlj^ thirty in the first cabin. Among the 
number are three ladies and the rest are men from England, 

[16] 



Cuba, Germany, Japan, Peru, Chile and the U. S. A. About 
noon we see Manta Bay and Point, Plata Island and Cape 
San Lorenzo to our left; and a large mountain, which may 
be Chimborazo, but we think it Monte Cristo. Later we 
pass Guayaquil Bay, at the head of which lies the city of 
that name, the greatest seaport of Ecuador, connected with 
Quito, the capital, by rail. The latter city is about 10,000 
feet elevation and quite interesting, but Guayaquil is quar- 
anteened because of yellow fever and bubonic plague, so no 
one ventures there who doesn't have to. 

About noon the next day more land is seen, the southern 
part of Ecuador and the northern part of Peru. Payta, 
where the Panama hats come from, and Eten are both 
located by means of the map, for we never approach nearer 
than six miles of the shore. About six o'clock, a group of 
guano islands, Lobos de Afuera, are seen to our right with 
a three-master collecting its cargo which is valuable as a fer- 
tilizer. The Peruvian government regulates strictly the 
collection and sale of guano and protects the birds who in- 
habit these barren rocks. We are favored with a perfect 
starlit night, a new moon nearly embracing Venus, the beau- 
tiful Southern Cross and Scorpion as plain as day. Our 
Dipper and the North Star are no more. 

July 26th. — We use blankets these nights and the elec- 
tric fan gets a rest. Most strenuous work on deck at games 
even in the drizzle. More land. Peru to our left. Most of 
the coast, so far seen, is from 500 to 1,000 feet cliffs, barren, 
with little visible beach even with the glasses. A few light- 
houses, but no clustering villages like our northland. Sala- 
verry is the chief port given the go-by to-day. 

We arrived so late last night (10 P.M.) that no one was 
allowed to land, and all that we impatient ones could do was 

[17] 



to gaze at the lights of Callao. In the early morning our 
ship moved up nearer the shore and immediately eommenced 
to load 3,000 bales of cotton, for real good cotton is grown 
in Peru. After breakfast we took the inevitable small boat 
and were rowed to the quay by a boatman, called "fletero" 
in these parts. The quay guards a sort of basin in which 
sailing vessels lay. The harbor proper is protected partially 
by some bleak islands lying to the south, otherwise open. 
About thirty vessels lay at anchor, among them three flying 
U. S. flags, one a huge three-master. After observing the 
Plaza and Admiral Grau's monument, w^e took a perfectly 
good American trolley-car seven miles to Lima — a city of 
150,000 inhabitants at an elevation of 500 feet. We chance 
here at tlie Independence Day period, for on July 28th, 
1823, Peru finallj'^ shook off the Spanish yoke. Of course, 
prices soar at this time, as all the real patriots come 
to town, so the tourist is not much in demand. The Maury 
with its Annexes has the reputation of being the best hotel 
on the West Coast. All I can say, apart from food, God 
help you if jou ever strike anything dirtier or more unsani- 
tary. The food in the Maury Cafe and out at the Exposi- 
tion restaurant is good and the female orchestra splendid. 
There are many squares or plazas in Lima and nearly sev- 
enty churches. Of the former, Plaza de Armas is the chief 
and was selected by Francisco Pizarro, the villainous con- 
queror, as the main site of the town. He laid the corner-stone 
of the Cathedral, the largest and oldest in South America, 
on January 18, 1535. It was nearly a hundred years before 
the building was finished and consecrated. It contains the 
remains of Pizarro, some splendid silver altars and trim- 
mings, a magnificent choir with very old carvings in 
mahogany and cedar and a few valuable paintings. The 

[18] 




Carved fafade of an old church, Lima. 3. MoUendo Harbor. 3. Old Cathedral, Lima. 
4. Group from the "Oriana" in front of the Exposition grounds, Lima. 5. Western side 
of the Plaza de Armas, with Peruvian infantry. 6. The American Minister and Mrs. 
McMillan in the Legation garden. 7. Government Palace, Lima, with mule battery 
at rest. 



Government Palace occupies the northeast side of the Plaza 
and is the remnant of the historic residence of the viceroys 
when Lima was the capital of Spanish South America. The 
other sides present portales not unlike those of Berne and 
La Rochelle. Here are many shops with residences, clubs 
or dining places above them. The City Hall is on the north- 
west corner and just down the street is the Post Office. A 
great majority of the houses are two stories, but many of 
the public structures rise to three and four stories, and con- 
crete seems to be much in vogue. Earthquakes are common, 
about ten in the past year, but they are not very troublesome. 
This is the winter season here, and the ladies have on furs 
and the men overcoats, although it seems like real Fall to us. 
A visit to the station of the Central Railroad of Peru 
on the south bank of the Rio Rimac, proves that we are too 
late to take a train to Oroya, thus missing a great treat. 
The trains leave at 6.50 A.M. on Mondays, Wednesdays and 
Fridays, returning the next day. Our boat was six hours 
late and this spoiled our chances. This road was begun by 
an American, Henry Meiggs, in 1870, but did not reach 
Oroya until 1893. The station Ticlio, 15,665 feet, is the 
highest station in the world, although a branch line running 
to some mines at Morococha crosses the divide at 15,865 feet, 
which is higher than Mt. Blanc and the very highest point 
reached by a railroad in the world. From Oroya, one can 
railroad to Cerro de Pasco, where Americans have spent 
$30,000,000 in developing a copper plant. I need not speak 
of the scenery because only a distant view of these solemn 
wonders, many over 17,000 feet high, was my lot. Inter- 
views with the manager of the mining company, the manager 
of the railroad, and, later, with the genial American minister 
only served to accentuate our disappointment. 

[19] 



July 28th is ushered in by a national salute at 6 A.M. 
from the Peruvian navy — three gunboats, one transport and 
two submarines — anchored in Callao Harbor. xlU the city 
abounds in color — the red and white of Peru predominating. 
Never have I seen so many countries represented by their 
national flag — conspicuous among them the Italian, French, 
Spanish, and the fine colored effect of the new Chinese 
Republic. No one works on such festivals for at least 
three whole days, and every one makes merry. There are 
rumors of a revolution about, hence Lima has a larger num- 
ber of soldiers than usual, but Congress meets and allows 
the present incumbent to stay in office, although he was 
never elected — simply usurped the job. This in our age and 
day. The Plaza de Ai'mas presents an animated scene, with 
sailors, infantry, artillery and cavalry, well-armed and 
clothed in the French fashion — the men sturdy Indian stock, 
with now and then a negro type, the officers very French 
but not so scrappy looking. All are arranged facing the 
Cathedral when at 10.30 the President, his staff and other 
dignitaries start to walk to the Cathedral from the Palace 
amid a few cheers, a little hat-raising and much din of 
trumpets, drums and bands. We wander about, taking 
photos, attending High Mass and getting a late breakfast, 
until 1 P.M., when the performance ends and the troops 
disperse into the side streets, going to their barracks in dif- 
ferent parts of the city a la Francjais. Sports hold sway in 
the afternoon — a soccer football match, races at the Jockey 
Club, which we attend so as to observe the ladies. Their 
mantillas are not in evidence here as they were in church. 
Now and then we see a close finish, but as far as an outsider 
could observe the meet was run for the "bookies" and the 
bettors. 

[20] 



We celebrate the next day by riding in a two-horse sea- 
going cab about town, buying fruit at the splendid market, 
seeing more monuments, plazas and public buildings. In 
this connection let me remark that the University of San 
Marcos here in Lima, with its various departments, was 
founded in 1551, making it the oldest in the Western Hem- 
isphere. Out at the Exposition is a good zoological garden 
and an interesting museum of Inca and other ancient items. 
A brief visit to the American Minister and Mrs. McMillan 
and the former's secretary, Mr. Lewis, revealed what seemed 
to us the choice spot of Lima. The Legation is most hap- 
pily situated on high ground, surrounded by three acres of 
fine trees, including a blooming bourgambillo and many 
flowers and plants. We were most graciously received and 
mildly reprimanded for not appearing earlier to enjoy the 
hospitality of the good home folks. A happy luncheon at 
the Exposition was followed by a chase for the boat, seeing 
on the way a modified marathon and great activity in Callao 
because of a regatta. Before sailing at 5.20 the atmosphere 
became so clear that we could distinctly see the snow on 
the mountains back of Lima and the wireless station crown- 
ing Cerro San Christobal. This high-powered station has 
sent messages to Manaos, Brazil, 1,435 miles away. Of 
course, Lima with its twin-spired cathedral shone forth in 
the late afternoon light. Then out by the barren volcanic 
rocks which formed the harbor and south again for a 457- 
mile run to Mollendo. We now know for a certainty, or 
nearly so because such a condition of mind does not exist in 
South America, that the Transandine Railroad from Chili 
to Argentina is frozen solid, so it is useless for us to make 
a detour into Bolivia, with the object of again seeking the 
sea in order to reach Valparaiso. Thus our original plans 

[21] 



are again changed and the Bolivian side trip becomes part 
of our tiirough trip across the continent to Argentina, thus 
missing Chili. 

July 30th finds us again on the Pacific, with a perfect 
day and the usual games, now the mote exciting because 
of the addition of about twenty passengers. Most of the 
day we have steamed within two or three miles of the shore, 
which appears as barren sandy cliffs probably 1,000 feet 
high or more, and with the sunset took on the red-brown 
coloring so typical of some of the Dolomites. 

We reached the seaport of JMollendo at an early hour 
on the last daj^ of July, but did not go ashore until 10 A.]M., 
and had two and a half hours to roam about before the train 
left over the Southern R.R. of Peru for Arequipa. A 
number of our friends of the "Pastores" and "Oriana" ac- 
companied us ashore, seeing that we were landed safely. 
This open port has such a swell that persons are often re- 
layed in baskets, and even then suffer a drenching. We 
had a swell of four feet, but that was easily negotiated. 
MoUendo looks like a baked town, little sign of vegetation, 
nothing historic or interesting, and apparently exists onlj^ 
as the terminus of the railroad. The road was built by 
Meiggs some thirtj'-five years ago, and is controlled by the 
Peruvian corporation formed about 1880 to take over the 
government road in payment for war debt. The corpora- 
tion is entirely foreign-owned, with American and English 
managers, hence the approximation to decency. The loco- 
motive was a fine United States Baldwin and the cars all 
made in the United States, but of an early vintage. First 
class fare is about $15 to La Paz and a dollar more insures 
a seat in the "Coche Salon," a very comfortable buffet par- 
lor-car. 

[22] 




1. Crucero Alto, 14,666 feet, the highest point on the Southern Peruvian R.R. 3. Typical 
mountain scenery in southern Peru, showing trails and railroad cuts. 3. Crescentic sand 
formations at 7,000 feet elevation. 4. Cathedral, Arequipa. 5. Street scene, Arequipa. 
6. Beautiful facade of Jesuit Church, Arequipa. 7. Plaza de Armas, Arequipa, with 
the splendid portales. 8. Cone-shaped El Misti. 



We proceed to rise almost immediately after leaving 
the sandy shore and ascend by all varieties of curves, often 
seeing the engine on the turns. The country is dry, sandy 
and rocky, about the only vegetation being cactus. A few 
stations are encountered, and now and then a fertile, well 
cultivated valley. It is impossible to keep the windows open 
if any speed is attempted, because the fine sand is most irri- 
tating to our eyes, nose and throat. From the Tambo sta- 
tion at 1,000 feet a pretty view of the sea and the green 
Tambo valley is possible; in fact, every station seems an 
oasis in the midst of a desert. The plateau is finally reached 
with the remarkable crescentic sand-dunes, some twenty-five 
feet high and said to move at the rate of sixty feet a year. 
Now El Misti and other snow-capped giants come in view 
and give us many phases of their beauty. It is dark as we 
reach Arequipa at 6.30, but one of our good friends of the 
Peruvian Singer Sewing Machine Company has telegraphed 
ahead, and we go straight to the Annexo Morosini Parodi, 
which has long enjoyed a good reputation, especially for 
food. The Annexo is on the Plaza de Armas and our rooms 
face a courtyard. It is said that the Annexo of the Central 
Hotel is better as regards rooms, but our hotel is O.K. as 
to food. Don't trust these South American hotel people, 
for they have a happy faculty of raising prices on strangers, 
or "gringoes." We spent part of the evening seated on 
top of the portales gazing at the square and the snow-capped 
giants behind, plainly seen this bright night. 

August first. — Arequipa, at an altitude of 7,549 feet, 
has 40,000 people, and is the second city of Peru in size and 
commercial importance. Although founded in 1540 by the 
Spanish, it is much older, being in reality an Indian settle- 
ment of many years previous. Thi'ee sides of the Plaza 

[23] 



de Armas present the finest stone portales in South Amer- 
ica, while tlie Cathedral occupies the fourth side. The Ca- 
thedral is better inside than out, although to our eyes it is 
very satisfactory from either standpoint. The background 
of the church is the most impressive sight in Arequipa — 
cone-shaped El Misti (19,200 feet) in the middle, with 
Chachani on the left and Pichu-Pichu on the right. These 
three giants, especially the Misti, can be seen from almost 
any point of view. We visited other churches, La Com- 
pania with a fine stone facade, a splendid modern jjublic 
market and a new institution of 600 beds, the Goyeneche 
Hospital, under charge of the sisters of St. Vincent de Paul. 
This hospital, costing nearly $700,000, actually contained 
450 patients on our visit. There are ten large wards of 32 
beds each — half male and half female — all built on the pa- 
vilion plan, with gardens between. We visit private rooms, 
employees' and nurses' quarters, modern operating rooms, 
and a large military division presided over by a military 
surgeon. Three other physicians complete the house staff. 
The sanitary arrangements, toilets and tubs leave much to 
be desired. I have never seen a better apothecary depart- 
ment or better operating-rooms, but the kitchen was poor 
and the ventilation faulty. Possibly the latter criticism is 
unfair, because Arequipa is like June in the daytime and 
January at night, and there are no heating arrangements. 
The principal diseases were tuberculosis and sj'^philis. I 
also saw some cases of eczema and erysipelas. The Observa- 
tory, maintained by our own Harvard University, is three 
miles out toward Misti, and is the best equipped institution 
in South America. We had time to go there, but every one 
attached to the place was away. 

Early the next morning we left for an all-day train 

[24] 



trip in our "Coche Salon," at $1.50 extra to Puno, and 
with about the same passengers. The scenery, while similar 
to yesterday's, is different in that there appears more rock 
and some splendid railroad engineering, five levels of track 
being seen at some points. The Baths of Yura are passed 
an hour from Arequipa. This is a well-known health resort. 
Steadily climbing, we reach Pampa de Arrieros for break- 
fast, and later at 2.45 Crucero Alto, the highest point in 
the day's run, 14,666 feet, about 1,000 less than the highest 
point on the Oroya Railroad. We now see real Indians at 
home and herds of llamas, with a few alpacas and occasion- 
ally a group of wild vicunas. All of these animals are 
valuable for their wool, especially the vicunas, but only the 
llamas are used as beasts of burden. We also noted many 
pack-trains of burros, some herds of sheep and remnants 
of the Inca irrigation ditches and remains of villages. From 
Jiiliaca, the point where one changes to go to Cuzco, 
the metropolis of Inca days, we pass in about an hour to 
Puno and its wharf, where the steamship "Inca" is boarded. 
This little vessel of 1,000 tons gives good service — furnish- 
ing dinner on sailing and coffee, tea, bread, butter and jam 
in the morning. These two meals are included with the 
stateroom in the fare from MoUendo. Went to bed about 
nine and nearly froze. You see, this Lake Titicaca, 135 
miles long and 66 wide in some places, covers an area of 
5,000 square miles (almost as large as Lake Erie) at an 
elevation of 12,500 feet, making it the highest lake in the 
world where steamboats navigate. 

August third. — Arose at 6.30 to get a view of the Bo- 
livian end of the lake, the wonderful line of snow-capped 
peaks ( Cordillera Real ) on the east shore, and saw a balsas, 
the curious native boat. This lake is famous in the legendary 

[25] 



history of Inca and pre-Inca times — the island of the Sun 
and INIoon being especially fascinating. This lake is not 
unlike Lake Champlain in some respects, and of course is 
much greener in the summer, but it lacks the trees of our 
lake. The thermometer stands at 10° F., so we have a hard 
time to keep warm even with winter clothes. About 7.50 
A.M. we leave Guaqui in American cars for a sixty-mile 
trip to La Paz. The first part of the trip lies in the valley 
of the Rio Desaguadero, which is 180 miles long, the only 
outlet of Lake Titicaca, and emptying into Lake Poopo. 
We noticed here that the homesteads (if one-storied mud 
houses with small enclosures can be so called) are scattered 
about and not grouped in villages as seen in Peru. This 
valley is evidently very productive, as cultivated fields, cat- 
tle, mules and llamas are much in evidence. Fifteen miles 
from Guaqui, Tiahuanaco is reached. The huge stones and 
other remnants of a pre-historic age can plainly be seen from 
the train. Our eastern background is the 100-mile array 
of snow-capped Cordillera, with Illampu (21,750 feet) 
reigning. 

We steadily climb to Viachi, a railroad junction. At 
Alto Station we change from steam to electricity, descending 
five and a half miles at an average grade of 6%. The view 
from the brim of the plateau upon La Paz, 1,500 feet below 
and still over 12,000 feet in altitude, is very inspiring. This, 
the highest capital in the world, is a most up-and-down-hill 
place with modern trolley-cars, a good brewery, fine build- 
ings, often of three and four stories, for they don't have 
earthquakes as in Arequipa and Lima, all nestled in a bowl, 
the sides of which are huge mountains — lUimani with its 
21,000 feet being the true King of Snow. We go in a four- 
horse coach to the famous hostelrj% Hotel Guibert, and 

[26] 




German-trained Bolivian artillery. 3. Infantry, marching in La Paz. 3. Statue to Murillo 
in the plaza of that name. '4. Parade on the Prado, La Paz. 5. Government Palace, 
La Paz. 6. Up and down hill in La Paz. T. A section of La Paz, with Mount lUimani 
in the background. 



eventually get good accommodation overlooking the main 
street off the Plaza Murillo. The food is good and with 
room costs $3.20 per person. After breakfast, which is 
served between 11.30 and 2, we investigate the Government 
Buildings and the splendid Murillo statue in the Plaza, go 
down the steep streets into the old town out to the Prado, 
which is a residential section containing many foreign lega- 
tions, beautiful rows of trees and some mediocre monuments. 
We visit Mr. O'Rear, the American Minister. He is from 
Missouri — enough said. 

On August 4th, after chocolate and rolls at a little 
place in the Plaza, we did everything, even to visiting the 
Bolivian R.R. office, W. R. Grace & Co., and writing many 
postal cards. In the afternoon we coached to the Prado, 
saw the tentative review of about 2,200 Bolivian soldiers, 
including five battalions of infantry, one of cadets, one of 
lancers, and some batteries of mountain and field artillery. 
August 6th is the National Independence Day of Bolivia, 
so these military performances were in anticipation of that 
event. At 2 P.M., before leaving for the Prado, I saw 
the German Military Commission, consisting of ten officers 
in full dress uniform, pay their farewell visit to President 
Montes. The Bolivian army is drilled, clothed and armed 
like the Germans, the dull gray uniform and shako, the metal 
helmet and the goose-step for review being the superficial 
evidences. This reminds me that the European War was 
first brought to our notice at Arequipa, July 31, and since 
then we have read with much interest the Spanish papers, 
and heard all varieties of foreign comment. It seems the 
officers mentioned and other Germans are to leave for Ar- 
gentina to-morrow. The French cruiser "Montcalm" is 
picking up Frenchmen along the West Coast, now being at 

[27] 



Iquiqui. It is veiy weird to be so far out of the beaten 
track as not to be able to get any real news. 

Wednesday, at 1 P.iNI., we left La Paz with about 
twenty Germans on their way to war. To our consterna- 
tion, we find that they are going our entire route via Atocha 
and a three-day coach ride across to Argentina. As the 
accommodations along the line are limited, we are apt to be 
delayed. When Alto station is reached there is much hand- 
shaking among the Germans, saying good-bj'. A French 
contingent of forty-three leave La Paz to-morrow and more 
Germans on Saturday. At Viachi we change to go south to 
Oruro. It is now snowing and very windy. The ride to 
Oruro takes till 8 P.M., but we have a good meal on the diner 
(comedor), cooked by a North American negro. The road 
lies along a high plateau or pampa, with many adobe dwell- 
ings and enclosures of the same material for the live stock, 
principally llamas, sheep and some cattle. The elevation 
is 13,000 feet and the weather cold. The gauge of the track 
is one meter (3 feet 3 inches) and the cars American — that 
is, they are put together here, the parts being built in U. S. A. 
Oruro, a mining city of 20,000, at an elevation of 3,714 me- 
ters, is reached in the bitter cold, and an immediate change 
is made to the "Nocturno," which goes through to Anto- 
fagasta in Chili. We have a stateroom of two berths, ar- 
ranged the length of the car in the sleeper (dormitorio). 
From Oruro to Uyuni the track is only 30 inches wide. 

After a cold night we reach L^j^mi (3,665 meters), a 
modern railroad town of 3,000 people, with wide streets and 

an extensive railroad yard. Mr. H , a Protestant Syrian 

speaking eight languages, meets us. He was sent by one of 
our American friends in Chili to see us overland. It is 8 
A.M. and very cold, but we attempt to get accommodations 

[28] 



for our stage ride to Argentina, for the connecting train 
leaves at 9 A.M. Great disappointment, for we find that 
the heavy war traffic prevents our going to-day or next Sun- 
day (the route being traveled twice a week only). We get 
rooms at the Hotel Uyuni, kept by Austrians. It is a 
typical South American hostelry, rooms opening into a patio 
with no ventilation except the doors. It is so very cold 
when out of the sunlight at this elevation of 12,300 feet 
(higher than La Paz) that one crawls into bed with most, 
if not all, of one's clothes on. Bolivia's national holiday is 
August 6th, but we have found it customary in these parts 
for such events to expand into a three-day fiesta — the day 
before, the actual explosion, and the day after. No one 
works, nothing can be done, and every one gets full to the 
best of his ability and extent of his pocket. We met about 
ten Britons and Americans engaged on the railroad (Anto- 
fagasta and Bolivia R.R.), and they help to pass the time 
away. I enjoyed the unique pleasure of three sets of tennis 
on a splendid concrete court at an elevation of nearly 13,000 
feet, having the resident engineer for a partner and the Brit- 
ish vice-consul and a Welshman for opponents. The village 
bands keep up their drumming and the hotels and cantinas 
are busy places until very late. All the English, Americans 
and one Frenchman join in songs and drinks mixed with 
"Viva Bolivia" until the real Broadway shank of the evening. 
Friday is cold, crisp and clear. Something doing every 
minute — at least for the natives. A parade in the morning 
of one company of infantry, the government officials in silk 
hats, the boy scouts and school children. In the afternoon 
the amusement consists of games of running and hurdling, 
which are extravagantly funny to us, and some very fair 
gymnastic exercises by the boys and girls from the schools. 

[29] 



The Bolivian flag — red, gold and green — is seen everywhere, 
and gay streamers are stretched across the streets and over 
the many hooths erected to furnish food, drink and amuse- 
ment. Indians are present in number, but the famous slit 
trousers of the La Paz Indian is not in evidence. The half- 
breed women (cholas) are gaily decorated in bright shawls, 
the usual white-shellacked straw hats and high-laced white or 
tan shoes. The Spaniards (chotas) wear ordinary modern 
clothes, black predominating among the poorer classes. In 
the evening there is a torchlight procession with much music, 
principally the "Marseillaise." We spent two very agreeable 
hours at the bachelor quarters of the English employees of 

the railroad. Captain D , an American, kindly arranged 

for us to go out on the Atocha line to-morrow by hand-car, 
and supposedly procured some mules for our overland trip. 
Also he most kindly loaned me $115 real money, because 
these war times have made our letters of credit rather useless. 
It has never been my lot to meet with more real hospitality 
on the part of strangers. However, all "gringoes" (applied 
to English and Americans especially) seem to hang together 
here. If I ever hated to leave a M^arm fire for a cold room, 
it was at midnight of this day. 

Saturday, August eighth. — After much delay, we three 
leave on a hand-car at 8.45 for Atocha, 90 kilometers (54 
miles), which is the farthest this line has been built toward 
the Argentine. Our hand-car, with a seat in front for three, 
is propelled by four Indians not yet over the feast days. Our 
bags, three saddles and a pack outfit, all loaned by our good 
friend, are finally tied on and we start our gradual ascent. 
Most of the way is over rolling pampa, with some llamas, 
a few vicunas and an occasional railroad house with water 
tanks, but no villages. We encounter more of the crescentic 

[30] 




1. Indian carpenters. Kilometer 55. 2. Cholas (women of the half-breeds), with their shellacked 
hats. 3. Llamas near Uyuni. 4. Our chilly hotel, Uyuni, with empty bottles decorating 
the patio. 5. Boy Scouts parading in Uyuni on the national holiday. 6. City Hall in 
Uyuni, decorated" for "Viva Bolivia." 7. Our loaded hand-car on the road to Atocha. 



sand-dunes and get a more intimate view of the country 
than would be possible from a railroad coach. At Kilometer 
55 we get off and eat a bite with a Hollander, one of the 
two white men on this entire stretch of road. He has in- 
structions from Captain D to take good care of us, 

and does so with his canned goods and hot coffee. It is 
now 3 P.M., and we start anew for Atocha with four fresh 
and sober Indians. Before reaching the highest point on 
the road at Kilometer 73 I have a chance to go out on the 
pampa and at short distance snap the llamas. From this 
point we go rapidly down grade, using the brakes all the 
way through the finest bit of scenery yet seen in South 
America. The formation, due to the action of water, con- 
sists of reddish clay stone in all sorts of shapes, canons and 
jagged peaks, 1,000 feet up and down, not unlike the Colo- 
rado Canon. Finally we emerge in the Gorge of the Atocha 
River, where we unexpectedly meet the English road-master, 

the other v/hite man to whom Captain D had confided 

us. It is dusk at 6.30 when the small village of Atocha is 
reached. We have beds — ^very dirty — ^made up in a railroad 
store while we take our meals at the only hotel (?). After 
much talk, especially with our hands, with a Chilian, a 
Bolivian and the road-master, we arrange for four mules at 
20 Bolivians apiece. It is some cold, so we sleep with all 
our clothes on and four blankets. 

Sunday. — Up at 7 A.M., and more disappointment — 
just one mule. We finally procure accommodation in a two- 
wheel cart which is to start after the train arrives at 1.35. 
You can't imagine the dickering necessary to procure three 
seats at 40 Bolivians apiece in this medieval cart. Well, 
when the train came in, it brought two of our friends of 
Uyuni — a Manxman and a Canadian (Col and Mac for 

[31] 



short) — as well as forty-eight German reservists and a few 
natives. The regular stage, drawn by six mules in pairs, 
and two baggage wagons, one especially for the mails, could 
hold ten passengers — among them oiu* friends. So five 
of these rough wagons must needs take fifty of us, including 
forty-two Germans, the other six having seats on the stage. 
These vehicles, each looking like a modified prairie schooner 
with gunnj' sacking for tops and sides on bamboo and iron 
framework, with 3^-foot wheels and six mules, three abreast, 
are driven by natives sitting on the right wheel mule. We 
won places in the first cart — that is, the one which led the 
caravan of carts after the regular stage and baggage wagons 
got away. Our company consisted of four Germans, two 
Americans, one Syrian, one Greek and one Argentina. It 
was steady up-hill work after leaving the river bed, and over 
very dusty rough roads. At 9 P.M., half-frozen but not 
hungry, because on these trips every one carried food, bread 
and cheese, canned meats, sausage, etc., we reached Escori- 
ana, consisting of a large one-storied roadhouse at an eleva- 
tion of 13,500 feet. Our friends on the stage had reserved 
beds for us, and we with six other travelers slept on the 
floor in a large stone room decorated with trophies of the 
chase. This was real luxury, for most of the company hud- 
dled about impromptu camp-fires all night. Splendid train- 
ing for real war. 

August 10th. — Up at four A.M., after little sleep. It 
is bitterly cold, and with a tiny cup of tea, off we go in the 
winter moonlight. ISIost of our wagon-load walk, while 
some try to sleep on their bags, for these carts have no seats, 
no straw, no straps to hang on to — in fact, nothing but more 
trunks, boxes and bags than men. Daybreak reveals splen- 
did scenerjf as we pass through a narrow valley, over frozen 

[32] 




1. Young Bolivia at home (an adobe dwelling). 3. Typical clay and stone formations in 
southern Bolivia. 3. Caravan of llamas near Tupiza. 



brooks and the river many times. Two pumas, South Amer- 
ican cougars, are spied hunting their morning meal. For- 
tunately it is not the rainy season, for during that period 
of four months no vehicles can make the trip — only mules 
or horses on the narrow trails that we can always see on 
the sides of the mountain above the river-bed. I cannot 
attempt the description of the beauties of this wild, unin- 
habited mountain region, with all sorts of geological features 
of upturned, twisted strata of rocks and clay and many side 
gorges and little valleys. Gradually the valley opens up, 
and at noon we stop at Orinjenio, a small village, to give 
the mules a two-hour rest and ourselves a bite to eat. The 
village, which boasts a quaint old church, is literally cowed 
by the great mountains, and affords a plate of soup, bread, 
etc., but most of us cook something, if nothing but coffee. 
The neighboring river gives us a much-needed wash or bath, 
and being the middle of the day, it is not cold. In fact, 
all this day, even to the late arrival (10.15 P.M.) at Tu- 
piza, we enjoy the crisp but not unbearably cool air. After 
lunch we see many signs of life — ^villages, caravans of don- 
keys, llamas, solitary horsemen, or rather mule-men, for 
every one here seems to ride mules in place of horses. The 
lights of Tupiza (3,005 meters high) seem good indeed, 
and we find our friends of the regular coach have again 
reserved quarters for us. So after a tomato sandwich and 
a glass of good beer, we wake up Mac and Col to find that 
a telegram had been received for the Germans telling them 
to go no farther, because they cannot leave Buenos Aires. 
This would be a nice howdydo for us, except that our good 
friends have reserved two seats on the regular large coach 
leaving day after to-morrow for Argentina, so we would 
not get left. We have this day carted sixty miles and fifteen 
on Sunday, and still have sixty-six to go. 

[33] 



We spent the next day loafing about this pretty, old 
Tupiza, situated in a broad valley with a fine plaza, well- 
treed and good-looking for a town of its size (only 2,500 
people), having no outside coninuinication except by stage 
for eight months yearly. Twenty-four Germans decide to 
turn back and eighteen decide to go forward, not counting 
the six in the stage, who seem to have mone)'^ and who will 
keep on. At 5 P.M. the returning twenty-four leave in 
three carts to retrace their steps, while two carts go forward. 
We will overtake them to-morrow. 

After a fine night's sleep and good remembrances for the 
Italian management of the Hotel Metropole, we leave Tu- 
piza at 6.30 A.M., Wednesda}^ Twelve passengers occupy 
the large coach drawn by eight mules in pairs — Col. and I 
being on the front seat with the driver and Mac and the 
Judge being on the first seat. Later they change and ride 
upon the open driver's seats of the two baggage wagons, 
so that they can see more, have more room and are less dis- 
turbed by a sick Argentine. I never expect to enjoy a day 
more — the splendid river scenery, then a climb up and 
around the side of mountains on a road that has really been 
cut out of nature, the daredevil galloping of the mules down 
every hill, the shouts of the whip boy who travels on the 
running board of the wagon when not disturbing the mules, 
and our driver with his plain remarks to the mules and his 
long whip. We change mules twice during the day, and at 
the second change, Mojo, a sizable village, we eat a good 
breakfast at 2 P.M., in the "Restaurant of the Future." 
We meet many caravans of donkeys and llamas, see much 
live stock, and go up and down hill past villages, but our 
average elevation is not much below 11,000 feet. Villazon, 
the frontier town of Bolivia, is reached at 4 P.M., and a 

[34] 




1. Our river-bed road near Tupiza. 2. Tupiza, Bolivia. 3. Government Palace, Tucuman. 
4. Our prairie schooner. 3. The eight-mule stage. 6. Indians of southern Bolivia, with 
real ponchos. 7. German reservists loading at Atocha. 



half hour later we are having our baggage examined in La 
Quiaca, Argentina (3,400 meters), thence to the Italian 
hotel, the Central Norte, where both bed and food are good. 
These flat plains, bisected by real rivers in the rainy season, 
support a great deal of live stock, but both of the frontier 
towns are uninteresting and lacking in anything beautiful. 

The next day, up at 6.15 and early away on the state 
railroad, the Central Norte. Until about noon we are on the 
pampa with its villages, splendid railroad stations and graz- 
ing goats, sheep and llamas. Many fine horses and mules 
are in evidence at the numerous stops of ten to fifteen min- 
utes. This is the first lap of our long 1,200-mile trip through 
Argentina to Buenos Aires. About noon we drop down a 
steeper grade into a gorge, then through a gradually widen- 
ing valley, until about 4 P.M. we take to a rack or cog and 
continue thus for fifteen miles. Now the vegetation is more 
luxuriant, the houses are finer and the villages more sub- 
stantial. For the first time in two weeks we are really warm. 
So much so that one after another of our garments is shed. 
About dark, Jujuy (780 meters), with its fine station, is 
reached, and we change to the "Nocturno" for Tucuman. 
The "dormitorio" is fine, the berths, two in a room, arranged 
across the car, being very comfortable at five pesos per night. 
It may be said that the accommodations and the food on 
the Argentine diners are unusually good. 

Friday, the 4th, saw us in Tucuman, a well-built, regu- 
larly laid-out city of North Central Argentina, containing 
about 100,000 inhabitants. The Republic is about one-third 
the size of the entire United States and contains nearly 
7,700,000 people, a third of whom are foreign born, prin- 
cipally Italians, Spanish, French, German and English. 
Many others are Argentine born of foreign parents, so the 

[35] 



whole aspect of the people is different from Peru and Bo- 
livia. In fact, after leaving La Quiaca, we saw fewer In- 
dians than before, and practically none in Tucinnan. This 
cit}' is the center of the sugar cane and vegetable garden 
region and its public buildings, schools, hotels, etc., all show 
signs of prosperity. The up-to-date trolleys are as good as 
any we have seen in South America. Unfortunately, all 
five railroads which enter here have separate stations, our 
entering and leaving depots being a mile apart. The war 
is most disturbing, for at noon our Spanish "patrone" tells 
VIS that the evening train may not run because of coal short- 
age; but later, by personal investigation, we find that al- 
though about half of the trains have been discontinued 
our particular one is to go. It rains off and on all day, but 
is hardly cold according to our standards of the past two 
weeks. Before leaving the Hotel Central I have an oppor- 
tunity to extend my fraternal greetings through the pro- 
prietor to the local Scottish Rite Consistory. He informs 
us that Colonel Roosevelt visited the masonic body when 
here last year. Our train leaves at 9.30 over a broad-gauge 
track, and has the sleeping berths arranged crosswise, two 
or four in a stateroom. All the porters are white natives. 
As they do not fold up the upper berths during the da}% we 
cannot use the room, so all passengers sit in the diner or in 
the first class coach. 

All of Saturday we spend on the train, alternating be- 
tween good meals, well served in the diner, observations of 
the jDampas, and remarks about the cold, raw weather. 
While asleep, we left the garden countrj% and now we are 
passing across a flat, grassy plain which, although it is early 
spring, seems well able to support the cattle, horses and 
sheep seen everywhere. Some sections are under cultivation 

[36] 



with wheat or grain, and look very rich. This belt of 
prairie extends to and south of Buenos Aires and has made 
Argentina a great grain and meat-producing country. The 
villages are uninteresting and about as forlorn-looking as 
the average South American hamlet. Toward evening we 
approach the Paraguay River which, with the Parana, forms 
the Rio de la Plata. About 10 P.M., Rosario, the second 
city of Argentina, is reached and appears by its many lights 
to be a considerable town. I forgot to say that early in the 
day much of the country seen was under water, ponds or 
lakes of small size teeming with wild ducks and geese, a 
veritable sportman's paradise. The excessive rain, we after- 
ward learned, will prevent a normal grain crop. 

Our train, which was due in Buenos Aires at 7.30 A.M. 
Sunday, did not arrive until 10.30, due to causes not men- 
tioned, but the delay gave us a fine chance to see the suburbs 
by daylight. Every sign betokens a large city, for Buenos 
Aires has 1,300,000 inhabitants, being the largest city in 
South America. This back-door entrance was not imposing, 
for unpaved streets spell mud at this season, and the one- 
and two-story houses are neither prepossessing nor hospit- 
able looking. Nearer the city we pass Belgrado, with its 
golf course and the more attractive homes and gardens of the 
English residents. The station of the Central Railroad is 
being built, so at present this line shares a shedlike structure 
with the Cordoba system. One more word about railroads, 
and that is to say that only a few — notably the one from 
La Quiaca to Tucuman — are owned by the state, the rest 
by foreign capital. They are largely managed by the Eng- 
lish, but employ American methods rather than the Euro- 
pean. All the coal is brought from abroad, so this war will 
cause untold worry to the officials, inconvenience to passen- 

[37] 



gers and restraint to trade. As in Peru, Bolivia and Chili, 
construction work has practically ceased, throwing out of 
work thousands of natives and some hundreds of European 
and American clerks, mechanics and engineers. 

Having with others enjoyed the pleasure of a lean jjock- 
etbook, due to the financial troubles of all banks, we deter- 
mine to seek a reasonable hotel. Letters of credit are splen- 
did when you can get them cashed, but just now all 
Argentine banks are enjoying a holiday, due to Government 
decrees. President Pena's death and like excuses. Finally, 
after a freezing ride, we land at a well-located French 
hotel, the Central, and, as events showed, catering to the best 
class of native Spanish and French. The cuisine was splen- 
did, but the hostelrj'^ was somewhat chilly. However, over- 
coats, sweaters and hats have we worn so much to our meals 
that it is not necessary to worry. Buenos Aires downtown 
is regularly laid out, with the Avenida de Mayo, extending 
a half mile from Plaza de Mayo to Plaza Congresso, as the 
center attraction. All the morning we walk, in all about 
five miles, viewing the splendid Hall of Congress, the well- 
built four- to ten-story hotels, business blocks and semi- 
public buildings in the Avenida de Mayo and the Calle 
Callao, fixing in our minds the location of the various banks 
and steam-ship oflfices that we must visit, returning well 
tired out for a late breakfast. 

Buenos Aires is famed for her docks, quays and ware- 
houses which line her front for three miles, and these we 
"do" in the afternoon, partially in the rain. Owing to the 
war, ships may here be found galore, over eighty being tied 
up; for while German and Austrian boats do not dare go 
out, others have difficulty in getting cargoes because the war 
rates are so high. Even passengers must pay from twenty- 

[38] 



five to fifty per cent, increase in tariff. This country is hard 
hit by the war, but the foreigners here are harder hit, for 
many have lost their jobs and cannot get home even if will- 
ing. The latter predicament applies especially to the Ger- 
man reservists, of whom thousands have come to Buenos 
Aires from all over the west coast of South America and 
from the Argentine, and less than 500 got away. I'll war- 
rant most of them never arrive in the Fatherland. In the 
evening we trudge through the rain to the Casino to see a 
good vaudeville programme of nine numbers, mostly Amer- 
ican and English performers, and afterward witness three 
bouts of a wrestling match. 

All the next day it poured. We spent the morning and 
early afternoon searching for gold and we could tell much 
worthy of publication which would not be believed in this 
sane age except in the face of a gigantic business and finan- 
cial upheaval. We have since learned that our procural of 
gold was extraordinary, for in a few hours afterward the 
Government prohibited the letting loose of the real article. 
However, we got it, so did not have to seek the Salvation 
Army, the Victoria Seaman's Home or the Y. M. C. A. 
The latter has a good building, but a wonderful lack of 
courtesy and hospitality. As to boats for home — nothing 
doing. No one knows, not even the agents. Concerning 
things South American, there is the most wonderful lack of 
knowledge and apparent stupidity among the residents, 
which even spreads by contamination to the foreigners. They 
probably don't care, but it certainly seems as if business 
men should know. "War times" are sufficient excuse for 
most any blunder, but much of our misinformation came 
before the war. 

Tuesday, the eighteenth, saw us in the midst of a violent 

[39] 



rain and wind storm which did thousands of dollars' damage 
to the port and city. The river boats to Montevideo could 
not run, which I understand has not occurred in years. You 
can imagine that except for a necessary excursion to the 
various steamship agencies, we stayed under cover, only to 
come out of hiding in the evening and attending a 9 to 12 
P.M. moving picture show as a cure for "ennui." 

Wednesday still rendered cameras useless, but gave us 
good news in the line of a getaway. We have arranged to 
vamoose to Montevideo to-morrow and catch our old West 
Coast Hotel, the "S.S. Oriana," but I won't believe it until 
we get aboard and bid the de la Plata good-by. Eating 
good food, drinking Canadian Club and Quilmer's Cerver- 
cia (beer), and an occasional errand passed another chilly 
day into oblivion. I forgot to say the sun did shine a la 
Bolivia for a few minutes about noon. About 6.30 we heard 
the siren of "La Prensa" tooting, and later learned that the 
Pope was dead. "La Prensa" is the famous newspaper of 
Buenos Aires, having a splendid plant in the Avenida de 
Mayo and enjoying a worldwide reputation. Every time 
"La Prensa" toots it is fined $1,000, but the advertising is 
worth it, so on extraordinary occasions it still indulges. Its 
circulation during these stirring times is 225,000 copies. 
There are two good English dailies, "The Strand" (over 
fifty years old and the oldest daily here) and "The Herald" 
— besides papers in German, Italian, French, and what not. 
La Nacion, La Razon, and La Argentina (a cheap, popular 
a la Hearst sheet) are likewise big sellers. Argentina is 
famous among South American countries for her press, peri- 
odicals and book productions. A trip to the Zoological and 
Botanical Gardens relieves the monotony but increases our 
wet percentage. 

[40] 




1. Old Hall of Congress, Montevideo. 2. The Bolsa, Buenos Aires. 3. Avenida de Mayo, 
Buenos Aires. 4. Government Palace, Buenos Aires. 5. An artistic bit in Buenos Aires. 
6. San Martin Monument, Buenos Aires. 7. The mountain, Montevideo. 8. The National 
Capitol, Buenos Aires. 



Thursday brought sun and a certain degree of warmth. 
The population seems to have come to hf e ; even the narrow 
side streets are jammed with humanity — a real, live, United 
States sort — and many autos (especially French makes) , not 
to mention the numerous trolleys, part of a splendid English- 
owned tram system. We photograph from the capitol to the 
old cathedral, across the town and back, visit the University, 
do more steamboat and baggage tricks, and end by landing 
at the quay for the S.S. "Berlin," a small river boat, which 
is to leave at 7 P.M. for Montevideo. There is a large 
passenger and freight business between the capitals of Ar- 
gentina and Uruguay, so boats of this river line traverse 
the 100-mile width of the Rio de la Plata in both directions 
daily. About three-quarters of the passengers of all classes 
are bound for the "Oriana," so we make new acquaintances. 
Many steamships of deep draught cannot go up to Buenos 
Aires but load at La Plata, two hours by rail south of 
Buenos Aires, or take their passengers on at Montevideo. 
A representative of the Royal Mail Packet Company which 
controls the Pacific Steam Navigation Company accom- 
panies us to insure the direct transmission of baggage 
without the formalities of an investigation by the Uruguayan 
customs. The broad river, as the Anglo-Saxon mariners 
still call it, the River Plate, never was calmer, so at a 
slow speed we hardly ever felt the engine's vibration. 

The next morning no one is allowed to land on the docks 
until all personal baggage is transferred to a lighter. No 
"Oriana" in sight, but we are set free at 7.30 A.M., to see 
the sights. Each separate class. First, Second and Third, 
are given shore accommodations and food at the company's 
expense, and later, when it was reported that our ship would 
not reach the open roads until after dark, the first class 

[41] 



passengers at the Hotel Oriental were assigned rooms at 
this very satisfactory establishment. INIontevideo is a well- 
built, well-paved city of 350,000 inhabitants, the capital of 
Urugua}% a republic of about 72,000 square miles in area 
and 1,350,000 people, known officially as Republica Oriental 
del Uruguay. Practically the whole day was spent walking 
about, visiting the pretty plazas and noting the rather dis- 
appointing public buildings, for in this respect JSIontevideo 
is distinctly inferior to Buenos Aires. But its location is 
much better, the whole town is finely paved and clean, its 
main avenida much longer and as attractive as Buenos Aires. 
The atmosphere is almost Italian, due to the large Italian 
population. The breakwater is part of a $12,000,000 harbor 
improvement and is well worth a visit, which may readily 
be done by walking out on the cement and granite arm that 
projects a mile into the ocean to form the mam harbor. 
About twenty steamers lie in the open roads, and many 
more, especially of the smaller fry, are snugly moored to 
the quays inside. 

Later we see a battalion of infantry march by with trum- 
pets, drums and band agoing. While tall and erect, these 
men do not give the martial air that the Peruvian and Bo- 
livian troops did, and are not so well clothed or equipped. 
Their appearance is French as regards uniform, but these 
small republics seem beset to pile on the gold lace, which 
possibly may cover some deficiencies. We noted a few ne- 
groes in Buenos Aires, but as we travel north they are sure 
to increase in numbers, intelligence, and to a certain extent 
in influence. While Montevideo has many more than any 
locality we visited in Argentina, probably about the same 
proportion as Peru, they occupy inferior positions, as they 
do in the latter country. As you enter the harbor you cannot 

[42] 



fail to note on the left a green hill — ^whence the name Monte- 
video. Its crest is fortified and I understand from old in- 
habitants that, when it thunders forth peaceful salutes, its 
resemblance to things martial is very acute. 

The next day we are herded at an early hour on one of 
the splendid quays, and wait patiently until' 8.30 to be 
launched to the "Oriana," which lies in the inner basin. A 
large number of our passengers are French reservists, but 
every one must show his passport as he reaches the top of 
the accommodation ladder. We are welcomed by the officers 
and stewards as old friends, and having procured a state- 
room next to our Pacific coast one, we also win our old 
steward. Not to be outdone in any respect, we also sit at 
the Second Officer's table, as of yore. From Saturday, at 
10.30, when we sailed away from satisfactory Montevideo, 
until Tuesday, the 25th, when we laj?^ anchored in Rio Har- 
bor, we spent on the South Atlantic, out of sight of land ex- 
cept for the first few hours, while paralleling Uruguay, and 
the last few, while approaching the conical hills of Rio. 
Weather is good, food fair, service excellent and compan- 
ions enough. About forty first-class, seventy second-class 
and two hundred and ten third-class, together with two hun- 
dred crew, make quite a party. Our good ship is full-laden 
with cotton and wool from the West Coast, and has been 
traveling without lights since leaving Cape Horn. This she 
continues as a wise precaution, for she would be a fine haul 
with her rich cargo and nearly two hundred French re- 
servists. No Germans are allowed aboard the Allies' ships 
in these war times, and every port is jammed with German 
merchant ships. 

It is an interesting commentary on our trip that up to 
the present we have not met a single traveler who could be 

[43] 



called a tourist. The only other Yankee (as citizens of the 
U. S. A. are generally called this far south) on the "Oriana" 
is engaged in business in Brazil and approaches the tourist 
status because he came on a vacation to Buenos Aires by 
rail from Rio. This inland trip, contrary to private advices, 
can be made in four and a half days with good connections, 
service, sleepers and diners, but is apt to be hot and dusty. 
We had determined to go this way had the "Oriana" failed 
us. Perhaps it was fortunate we did not, because of coal 
shortage. The railroads are cutting out trains and spoiling 
through travel, which is a comparatively small item of their 
business. Nothing but war is discussed; papers a month 
old are read, and all sorts of wild rumors rehashed. Among 
the French reservists in the first cabin are two who walked 
across the Andes from Chile to catch a boat home. They 
are the survivors of a party of five, two of whom died from 
exposure and the fifth is in an Argentine hospital with 
frost-bitten extremities. This transandean route is the one 
we expected to take by train, but it was and still is frozen 
tightly. All of the French reservists in the first cabin, and 
many of those in the second, are prosperous business men, 
two are of the nobility and four are priests — all returning 
to la belle France to do their duty. I have nowhere met 
with men who are so willing and eager to share their coun- 
try's lot. Many are splendid physical specimens, and 
among them are many volunteers of mixed Italian, Spanish, 
English, Chilean, and Argentine blood. They amuse us and 
improve themselves bj^ regular drills. 

The morning of Tuesday, August 25th, broke hazy, so 
the approach to Rio was not so impressive as it might have 
been. Indisputably one of the greatest harbors in the 
world, both from a practical and a scenic standpoint.it is hard 

[44] 




si 
bo 






to imagine any reason why it should not be the best. It has 
room for fleets, the dimate is at least decent, bad weather is 
unknown, docking and wharfing are being much improved, 
and the city itself leaves little to be desired. We approach 
the entrance at noon. Bare conical mountains and small 
green islands are dotted all about, so that the proper en- 
trance course does not open up at once. Finally, we turn 
through a channel with a width of three-quarters of a mile 
between Pao do Assucar (Sugar-loaf), a cone-shaped peak 
of 1,296 feet, with its summit pointing westward, as the west 
guard; and on the east. Fort Santa Cruz, an ancient estab- 
lishment on a mass of granite rock. Other peaks pop out 
as the clouds lift, and the beautiful background of Rio is 
visible. Corcovado (2,309 feet), two and a half miles west 
of Sugar-loaf, and the mountain range extending five miles 
to Morro de Gavea (2,772 feet) are now visible. Besides 
these, smaller hills, many more or less conical, dot the fore- 
ground, dividing the city to such an extent that it presents 
four distinct sections, each with its beautiful crescentic 
water-front. As we steam into the bay, new vistas continu- 
ally present themselves. To the left of our course lies the 
red-roofed city, with palms waving in the wind. Magnifi- 
cent public buildings, such as the Monroe Palace, stand out 
in the foreground, while the background of hills abounds 
in homes amid cultivated patches. On the right is Nich- 
teroy, a city of 40,000 inhabitants and the capital of the 
State of Rio de Janeiro, with its crescentic-shaped front. 
Here, likewise, you see a background of conical wooded hills. 
Directly in front of our ship, the Bay opens up to a width 
of fifteen miles, while north and south it has an extent of 
sixteen miles. Here lie at anchor about twenty vessels of 
the Brazilian navy, mostly out of commission. But two 

[45] 



Dreadnaughts, the "Minas Geraes" and the "Sao Paulo," 
with some cruisers, all in white, and a few torpedo boats in 
gray, are apparently wide enough awake to preserve a 
semblance of neutrality. On paper, Brazil, with its 
22,000,000 of people and an area larger than the United 
States (exclusive of Alaska), has the largest navy in South 
America, but they have been behaving badly in the line of 
insurrection, so the breech-blocks of the big gims are kept 
ashore as a sort of Presidential pillow. In fact, due to 
trivial reasons, Rio has been under martial law since last 
March. Many merchant ships of all nationalities lie at 
anchor — notably fourteen German steamers. Well ap- 
pointed steam launches, containing the numerous officials 
who must look us over, swarm about the ship, so it is 1 :30 
P.M. before we are moored fast to the gi'anite quay, which, 
together with the fine customs buildings, forms part of the 
elaborate system of marine improvement now imder way. 
All the accessories of a good port are available, such as 
modern warehouses, wharves, tugs and electric cranes. 

We were happy to spy our one Ajnerican friend on the 
quay, and are soon in his hands and as rapidly through the 
customs. Our stay in Rio, a city of nearly a million humans, 
was immensely interesting and, including a three days' visit 
to Petropolis, consumed about two weeks. This is about the 
shortest time one should give to the best built, cleanest and 
healthiest city of South America. It is also the most inter- 
esting and picturesque. I cannot enumerate all the attrac- 
tions of Rio, and dare not attempt to list them in the 
sequence of our investigations, but will only attempt to out- 
line the main features. It is hardly possible to appreciate 
the one hundred mile circumference of Rio Bay until one 
takes a launch about the harbor, or to one of the ships at 

[46] 



anchor, or, at least, crosses on the ferry to Nichteroy. Rio 
is a Federal district which, together with twenty loosely 
boiind states, constitutes Brazil, but it is in every sense the 
chief city. After the Republic was proclaimed in 1889 and 
poor old Dom Pedro was turned out, the whole country took 
on a new lease of life, and in 1902 extensive plans were in- 
stituted for making Rio a real city. In 1903 the transforma- 
tion started, and in two years' time a modern metropolis, 
with a splendid water supply, modern sewerage, new busi- 
ness and public buildings, and harbor improvements, was 
built at a cost of $100,000,000. The results are the oblitera- 
tion of the mosquito and yellow fever, one's ability to drink 
pure water ad lib., as in Panama, and the small necessity 
for screens in the residential sections of the town. The tram 
system is good, and the motor taxi-cabs — standard French, 
German and American types of touring and closed cars, not 
the little shaky taxis of New York — are not expensive, but 
they do not seem to mind how fast they go. It is customary 
to hit it up to forty miles per hour whenever the chance 
affords. Speaking of "speeding," reminds me of the police. 
They are numerous and small, as is true of all South 
America. It might also be stated that they are poorly paid 
and not over-intelligent. The guardians of the peace in 
Buenos Aires were the tallest and best appearing, both as 
regards their physique and uniforms (a la London). The 
fixed post seems popular in Rio, Montevideo and Buenos 
Aires; and traffic regulating with whitened batons — hardly 
clubs — is almost a mania. Revolvers are commonly worn, 
and swords are seen in the Uruguayan and Argentine police, 
but it takes the Rio article, with their saucy warrant-officers' 
sea-cap and the striped band on the right arm cuff, like the 
London Bobbies, to be truly artistic. Of course, one sees 

[47] 



more blacks and near-blacks in Rio than heretofore, but not 
so nianj-^ as in the northern Brazilian cities and in the interior 
districts. INIany rise to social prominence, and distinctions 
are hard to make, both as regards the professions, business 
and society. It is done, however, to a more or less degree 
in Rio and in the south — Rio Grande de Sul and Sfio Paulo 
— where the foreign element is so strong. 

While lacking a capitol building similar to Buenos Aires 
or Montevideo, the edifices occupied by the various Federal 
departments are uniformly substantial; and the National 
Library, with 400,000 catalogued numbers (the largest 
south of the equator), the Post Office, Bolsa or Stock Ex- 
change, the Supreme Court, the Naval and Jockey Clubs, 
the new Bishop's Palace, the School of Fine Arts, some of 
the banks and neAvsjjaper offices, the Monroe Palace which 
temporarily houses the Federal Senate, and lastly the splen- 
did Municipal Theatre, are all good examples of civic pride, 
made of firm granite and brick. There are more than sixty 
churches in the city, several Protestant. Of course, the 
majority are Catholic, although the Church and State are 
well separated, and the clerical orders are not so much in 
evidence here as in the more backward states of the north- 
western portion of the continent. A number of old convents, 
monasteries and churches occupy picturesque locations on 
hills and prominences, but the most interesting edifices are 
the Cathedral — a large structure in the heart of the city 
but lacking the homogeneous beauty of some than we have 
seen — and the Candelaria, likewise downtown, and said to 
be the richest church in Latin America. 

Of course, I spent more time "doing" the institutions 
and hospitals than the average tourist. They are numerous, 
often well built and located, and apparently doing good 

[48] 




1. Pao do Assucar from Morro da Urea. 3. A bit of Beira-Mar and the sea-wall. 3. A small 
portion of Rio Harbor, with Pao do Assucar in the distance. 4. The southern end of 
the Avenda de Rio Branco. 5. Monroe Palace, Rio. 6. City Hall, Rio. 7. Municipal 
Theatre, Rio. 8. Canal do Mangue, Rio. 9. A small section of hilly Rio, showing 
the old aqueduct. 



work. Letters of introduction to the medical profession 
made my lot a happy one, for besides a banquet tendered 
to me in the Assyrian Restaurant of the Municipal Theatre, 
I later had the pleasure of delivering a stereopticon lecture 
in the hall of the Hahnemannian Faculty, which corresponds 
to a Homeopathic College, chartered by and drawing a sub- 
sidy from the Federal Government. Besides showing fifty 
slides on dermatological subjects, I exhibited sixteen illus- 
trations of the Flower and Metropolitan Hospitals, and 
presented the greetings of the American Institute of 
Homeopathy to a representative gathering of about seventy. 
Mr. Clarke, the traveling Secretary of the Y. M. C. A. in 
Brazil, who translated the Roosevelt address here in Rio, 
kindly ran the lantern for me, while an ex-interne of the 
Volunteer Hospital in New York undertook to do the trans- 
lating, with some outside assistance. The college offers a 
six-year course and is only two years old, although it has 
about forty students in medicine and nearly as many in 
pharmacy. Numerous courtesies were extended to me in a 
social way, and a great deal of time was devoted to my visits 
to the various hospitals, seven of which contain wards solely 
under homeopathic charge. Out of a total bed capacity of 
2,500, 1 found out that we controlled about 210 to 250, vary- 
ing a trifle at different times. The Naval Hospital on Ihla 
das Cobras (Snake Island), where the Marine Barracks are 
also situated, is splendidly located, but it lacks the modern 
wards and operating-rooms that some of the others possess. 
The large Military Hospital (600 beds) will be splendid 
when finished. The City Hospital, the Misericordia (1,200 
beds), reminds me of Bellevue in New York or Cook 
County in Chicago, about twenty-five years ago, only worse. 
Some of the smaller semi-private hospitals are much better 

[49] 



equipped, but not a single screen is visible, so ]\Ir. Fly has 
a sweet time flitting from wherever he lands to whatever he 
pleases. Although there is considerable leprosy in the in- 
terior of Brazil, there are few cases here — only about seventy 
in the institution devoted to their care. The National Hos- 
pital for the Insane, the Benjamin Constant Institute for 
the Blind and one of the Orphan Asylums are most worthy 
structures. 

Beautiful parks and flowered squares abound, many of 
great age. One large one contains the old Emperor's Pal- 
ace, now used as a National Museum, and all have bronze 
monuments to the various national heroes. The Botanical 
Garden is wonderful, possessing the finest collection of 
tropical plants — especially of the palm and cactus varieties 
— to be found in the world. It was founded in 1808 and 
still contains the original Royal Palm, 130 feet high and 
106 years old. Among the most noticeable features of this 
garden is the avenue of palms, 150 in number and extend- 
ing a half mile. Throughout the city will be found the 
Royal Palms; one avenue lined with thezn extends to the 
President's former palace, now used as a hotel for distin- 
guished guests of state. Colonel Roosevelt resided there not 
long since. Other avenues, notably the one that parallels 
the Canal do Mangue, are made beautiful by these graceful 
palms. Although I could note with satisfaction the splen- 
did Avenida Rio Branco, with its 160-foot width and 
modern steel offices and public buildings of almost every 
type of architecture, extending over a mile from our land- 
ing quay to the Monroe Palace, it is the five mile bay and 
ocean front extension of this thoroughfare, the beautiful 
Avenida Beira-Mar, a veritable Boston Park system, that 
most appeals to the eye. Leading to Pao do Assucar and 

[50] 



the ocean beaches of Leme, Copacabana and Ipanema, and 
to Gavea, one hundred and ten feet wide, splendidly treed 
and shrubbed, with pretty houses of the rich and poor in- 
termingled in the foreground and the never tiresome hills 
in the background, it is no wonder that we autoed over the 
Beira-Mar again and again at all hours of the day and night, 
and never lost an opportunity to walk the two miles from 
the center of the town along the sea-wall, which rises fifteen 
feet above the rocks below, to our comfortable French Hotel 
"dos Estrangeiros" (The Strangers). 

There are four excursions which should not be neglected, 
as they all offer wonderful vistas. While Rio possesses 
many attractive suburbs, the trip to Petropolis, formerly 
the summer home of the Emperor and founded in 1845 by 
2,000 Germans as an agricultural colony, combines the 
advantages of a visit to a wide-awake commercial and 
educational center of 40,000 people as well as a wealth of 
mountain scenery at an elevation of over 3,000 feet. The 
last portion of the twenty-eight mUe railroad trip from Rio 
is negotiated by the rack and pinion system, each engine 
pushing ahead of it two coaches. We spent a delightful 
two-days' motoring up the numerous valleys, into which 
Petropolis spreads spider-like, and as far into the country 
as the good roads last. As a place of residence, we quite 
agree with our American friend that it seems like home, 
with a real garden, beautiful plants and trees, live chickens 
and Jersey cows, and a lovely house much changed to meet 
American notions of comfort. Petropolis is the seat of 
wealth and fashion for nine months in the year, due in part 
to the fact that nearly the whole diplomatic corps resides 
there. 

Now a wonderful auto ride from the center of the city, 

[51] 



zigzagging six miles up to Boa Vista (1,000 feet), to Tijuca 
with its forest and cascade, on to gardens of fantastic rocks 
and boulders, down to the sea again; amid tropical vegeta- 
tion — bananas, wild coffee and what not — up and down, by 
hair-pin turns, two fair-sized mountains, by Gavea and along 
a road perched high above the ocean, like the French 
Riviera; some more hills, and down past beautiful suburban 
homes, the Botanical Garden and home, having completed 
an irregular circle of fifty miles. 

Even if you have your doubts, don't miss the aerial rail- 
road which extends from terra firma a half mile to Morro 
da Urea, whereon one may gain courage by food and drink, 
to continue the same distance by another basket cable-car 
to Pao do Assucar. The actual traveling time for this trip 
is twelve minutes, but a nervous person might imagine it 
was as many hours, for the view downward when suspended 
in midair is somewhat terrifying. In fact, many travelers 
and residents will not negotiate the feat. Going up at five 
P.M. you should be in plenty of time to get the great view 
by daylight of the Bay and city from the sea aspect at a 
height of about 1,300 feet. Then, about six, some lights 
peep out, and a few minutes later whole streets appear by 
electric magic, as strings of brilliants. At 6.15, Nichteroy, 
across the Bay, lights up at one turn of the switch, and the 
whole pictures baffles descriptions. You can mark and 
define every portion of the landscape beneath you — the long 
avenues, the curving beaches, the squares and parks, and 
even prominent buildings. Burton Holmes, in one of his 
travelogues, dwelt upon this view of Rio and showed some 
splendid motion pictures of the lights appearing. 

Our last excursion is by a cog-wheel railroad, two miles 
in length, to Corcovado. The motor power is electric; the 

[52] 




1. One of the ocean suburbs of Rio. 3. Group of Rio homeopaths. 3. Typical well-paved, 
well-lighted Rio avenue, with marching sailors. 4. An American auto near Petropolis. 
5. Street, with river in the center, Petropolis. 6. Gavea. 7. One of the numerous val- 
leys in which Petropolis nestles. 



engine, Swiss in construction, is supplied with five varieties 
of brakes, and at times in this radical ascent and later 
descent it comforts one to know this fact. The scenery en 
route is such as would be expected on a mountain railway 
through tropical woods, with openings in the forest afford- 
ing splendid distant views first on the city side and then 
to the ocean aspect. The summit is crowned by a cement 
and steel pavilion over 2,300 feet above sea-level, affording 
a view which of its kind is unexcelled, for it embraces all 
directions, with ocean, bay, islands, mountains, cities, roads 
and vegetation. This trip should be repeated, for it grows 
with repetition and may be made by trolley from the center 
of Rio across the old water viaduct built in the seventeenth 
century, around the slopes of numerous hills, past villas, the 
beautifully located International Hotel, along the old 
Spanish aqueduct to Sylvestre (700 feet), where the cog 
road is caught to the summit. We tried both methods, and 
safely assert that both are wonderful and neither should be 
missed. It takes about two and a half hours to make the 
afternoon trip, including a stop at Paneiras (1,500 feet), 
where the Hotel Corcovado rests to tempt one to remain 
overnight. 

Appreciating the peculiar state of affairs all over the 
habitable globe due to the European conflagration, as our 
Latin neighbors lucidly term it, we are most anxious to 
reach home, and to that effect spare no effort to leave Rio, 
even before our schedule of departure. What with the rate 
war between shippers and beef-packers in Argentina, the 
natural hesitation of exporters to risk their goods in belliger- 
ent ships and their objection to paying high rates of insur- 
ance, plus the indifference displayed by the Royal Mail 
Steamship Company (which controls the Lamport and Holt 

[53] 



boats, the onlj^ real passenger service to New York) as 
regard their American obligations, compared with the regu- 
lar service they have and do maintain with England, we find 
it next to impossible to get away. To what extent British 
Admiralty orders may have influenced this condition, I do 
not know, but it is another illustration of the need of a South 
American line owned in the United States. To illustrate 
to what extremes necessity drives us, our fellow-citizen, Dr. 
Kinsolving, Episcopal Bishop of Southern Brazil (a mem- 
ber, incidentally, of my old literary college fraternity, 
D. K. E.), enrolled as a seaman on a British cargo steamer 
with absolutely no accommodation for passengers. Finally, 
we land a blessing in disguise. One of the Prince Line of 
merchant ships — one of a fleet of forty-four steamers, hailing 
from Newcastle as its home toAvn, and having six cabins for 
first class passengers — is announced to sail on September 
5th, then it is the 6th, and finally we board her at 1 P.M. on 
Monday, September 7th. This day, one of the national feast 
days, was noticeable because of its heat, the large number 
of troops of all arms, marines and seamen, that we saw 
marching to and from the parade ground, Quinta Boa Vista, 
and because of real farewells to our hosts, lay and profes- 
sional. Among the latter, the mention of Dr. Joao Vollmer, 
late of Porto Alegre, now practicing in Rio, will interest 
my readers because he is a member of our old Theta Chapter 
of Pulte College. He proudly wore the phalanx of Phi 
AljDha Gamma and gave me his subscription for the Quar- 
terly, along with a host of brotherly messages. I must not 
forget to mention our farewells to those good companions 
of our transcontinental travels, Col and Mac, who now have 
a "job." 

Our good ship, the "Moorish Prince," was only launched 

[54] 



in April, 1914, and this is her maiden trip. Writing now, 
as we near New Orleans, I can affirm from experience my 
original impression of our 6,000 ton craft. She is a beauty 
to look at, very steady, although only carrying 48,000 bags 
of coffee, while her capacity is 150,000 bags. Her ship's 
company, all English, prove most willing and agreeable. 
The steward's department leaves nothing to be desired, 
excellent food, well cooked and served. And why not, for 
we have on board real live sheep, turkeys and hens (with 
fresh eggs for the Captain), to be slain as our appetites 
demand. In fact, everything on and about the boat is excel- 
lent, and let me tell you that twenty-five days on one ship 
enables one to get fussy. Captain Thomas, a Welshman 
with many talents, musical and otherwise, soon becomes one 
of the rangers. And who are the rangers ? Four Americans, 
born in Ohio, Illinois, Massachusetts and New York; and 
by profession, a U. S. Steel Co. representative (hereafter 
described as Steel), an Anglo-Mexican oil man (known as 
Oil), the Judge and myself. We have six fine big double 
cabins, four of which are in a virgin state, that is, they have 
not been occupied heretofore. So we chose the two forward 
ones, and the other two on the starboard, because the pre- 
vailing winds are from the sea side. Events justified this 
precaution. Our dining-room, of old oak, can easily hold 
twenty, and is forward between the cabins. To the rear of 
this are the first and second stewards' cabins; then a hall, 
and farther back the pantry, baths, etc. Above this is the 
promenade boat deck, with spacious mahogany smoking- 
room and red ash music-room. Above this again is the Cap- 
tain's quarters, chart-room and lower bridge; and one more 
floor includes the upper bridge, wheel, etc. Thus our super- 
structure is quite a house in itself. When your habitation 

[55] 



is limited to such small quarters, you learn to appreciate 
the brains of the designer. However, we wander at will, 
and get well acquainted with all portions of our habitation. 
In the hurry incident to leaving England, our good ship left 
its library, deck chairs and games at home, so we bring along 
a miniature library and six lounges and hammocks. The 
carpenter soon rigs up the proper implements for deck golf 
and shuffle-board. 

The Atlantic coast line of Brazil is nearly 4,000 miles 
in length, and as we have gone only about 800 of it in reach- 
ing Rio, you can imagine that it is some distance yet to go 
before saying good-by to the green flag with the yellow 
triangle. With a strong wind against us, we make the 275 
miles north to A^ictoria by 5.30 P.M., September 8th, too late 
to proceed up the river to the city, so we anchor in the outer 
bay. Early the next morning, with pilot aboard, we steam 
five miles up the narrow channel into the river to quaint 
Victoria. This water approach, while lacking the grandeur 
of Rio, is almost as beautiful, on a small scale. The city, 
one of the oldest in Brazil, contains 20,000 people, and is the 
capital of the state of Espirito Santo, which, though small 
in area, ranks third in Brazil in the production of coffee. 
We have another trying experience, for although our coffee 
loading is finished in thirty-six hours, j^et our stay is pro- 
longed to Saturday, September 12th, thus making impossible 
our hopes of arriving in the United States by the end of 
the month. You can hardly imagine how heavy those days 
hung on our hands, although we had charming excursions 
on the French Company's trolleys on both sides of the river; 
trips to purchase an extra large supply of drinkables, smoke- 
ables and fruit, a night visit to Miss Cinema (movies) and 
the military band concert; and, on Friday, an all-day motor 

[56] 




1. The old monastery in the distance. 2. ^'ictoria Harbor. 3. A^ictoria, Brazil. 4. A near 
view of the monastery. 5. The old village at the foot of the monks' hill. 6. The river 
leading to Victoria. 7. The "rangers" on the rocky precipice. 8. Typical street in 
Victoria. 9. S.S. "Moorish Prince." 



launch trip with our Captain down the river, and a merry 
chmb to the top of the old monastery located on a promi- 
nence near the ocean. A more ideal place to picnic cannot 
be imagined than high on the rocky mount beneath the 
shadow of the monastery, with unending views and bracing 
air to make lunch acceptable. While here, we spy the S.S. 
"Japanese Prince" of our line, making for port, so we 
know we will eventually get off. We suspect that the 
Admiralty or some official of the Company has detained us, 
so give vent to feelings that are vmmistakable. Fruitless, 
for we are to have other disappointments. 

The 820 miles to Pernambuco is reached by 2.30 P.M., 
on September 15th, after pleasant weather, cool evenings, 
and closer ties between the rangers. Our Captain only stops 
here to get war information, consular or admiralty advices 
and such indefinite bits. He rows ashore at 2.30 and never 
comes back till 9.30, thus we lose again. We anchor at one 
and a half miles from this Dutch looking city of 200,000 
people, and can plainly see the numerous German steamers 
anchored near or behind the breakwater. Some are at 
the docks, including my old transatlantic friend, the 
"Blucher," the scene a few weeks ago of a disgraceful 
tragedy, when sixty-nine steerage passengers were killed by 
boiling water poured on them by the German crew. When 
you consider that the crews of these seventeen German ves- 
sels must number nearly 2,000 men, that they must be fed 
and that wharfage and harbor charges are somewhat high in 
Brazil, as is everything else, you can see what the war will do 
to German commerce. Neutrality is rather a farce here, for 
every now and then some German ship loads up and slips out 
to feed or coal a German war vessel, and does it under the 
very nose of a most officious customs service and a most lazy 

[57] 



naval outfit. And yet, all the sympathies of this country, as 
well as the rest of South America, are with the Allies, par- 
ticularly for the French. Even Brazilians of German de- 
scent seem to share this view, for no matter what virtues the 
individual Teuton may have, collectively he has made himself 
most obnoxious in this land on numerous occasions. How- 
ever, our onljf desire is to avoid any closer intimacy with the 
belligerents. Leaving Pernambuco at 9.30, we clear osten- 
sibly for Madeira, and head to sea in utter darkness, as has 
been and will be our custom. 

A half day's sailing beyond Pernambuco, we pass Cape 
San Roque, the nearest South American point to Africa, 
where the interval is only 1,470 miles. It may interest some 
to know that it is only 1,530 miles between Pernambuco and 
Dakar, a thriving port of French Senegal. We do not fol- 
low the regular course with its favoring currents, but hug the 
shore, and every time a vessel hoves in sight all is suspense 
until we make her out. One night we were ploughing along 
by the moonlight and saw the lights of a ship approaching, 
so set our forward light and made the electric flashes pre- 
paratory to using the Morse dot and dash method; but lo! 
our friend beat it straight out to sea, and got out of our way 
so expeditiously that she must have been German, French or 
English. So we loll along day by day, scaring some and be- 
ing scared ourselves every time any boat, light or suspicious 
object appears on the horizon. We pass an English tramp 
headed for Manranhao and she will not even answer our 
signals; but later a more polite steamer, bound for George- 
town, British Guiana, enjoys our talkative ways and an- 
swers our flag signal, "Have you seen any warships?" with 
a "No." On the second day out from Pernambuco, while in 
the full enjoyment of a strong lead in deck golf, "Steel" 

[58] 



strikes a bunker and sprains his shoulder and fractures a 
process of the left scapula — all of which puts a quietus on 
real exercise and turns us into doctors and nurses. The stock 
of medical and surgical articles carried on our craft and 
entrusted to the Captain and chief steward to administer, is 
good and sufficient. I apply a Velpeau bandage with most 
gratifying results. September 18th, we cross the Equator 
without seeing the line and without initiation, for there are 
no neophytes for Neptune to practice on. The evening fol- 
lowing this event, 3° north, we see the north star and the 
handle of the dipper low near the horizon, so know we are 
getting home. While the days are warm, we can always 
scare up a breeze, and the evenings are delightful. This be- 
ing a stag affair on our own yacht, as it were, enables us to 
assume negligee: pajamas, bath robes, slippers, with modifi- 
cations to suit, is the bill for dress. 

While we read and walk as the spirit moves, and eat 
three good, well-served meals promptly at 8.30, 12.30, and 
6.00, there has gradually developed a daily routine which I 
offer to future travelers on this good craft : 

7 to 8:15 A.M. Bath at steward's request, per some previous 
engagement of your own. 

8:30. Breakfast, with illuminating remarks about the efficacy 
of fruit in general, especially prunes. 

9 :00. First call for athletic diversions. Steel, Oil and 1 sit 
down in the coolest shaded spot to play three games of the national 
Mexican game, dominoes. 

10:30. First call for drinks— Oil's blow. 

10:45 to 11:00. Now, being wearied, we smoke, chat and read. 
The Judge does the last mentioned all the time, when not sleeping. 

12:00 Noon. After much hard work, the Captain and Second 
Officer figure out, with the help of a book on logarithms, just where 
we are, and the "rangers" are informed as to distance and the de- 
vious tides, winds, fish, birds and other incidents such as ptomaine 

[59] 



poisoning, that affect nautical speed. Then we advise the Captain 
as to the course to be pursued. 

12:30. Tiffin, as they of the Orient always call it, is served 
promptly and eaten in tlie same manner, with only minor details in 
dress, such as a button or two done up or undone, hair brushed or 
not, hands washed or otherwise. 

1:15. Second call for those inclined to wrestle with the domi- 
noes. 

3:00. Smoke, meditate — anything to kill time, until 

3 :30. Tea is announced. Tliis is a purely British function and 
we are assured that the tea is good. 

3 :45. Marked tendency to select one of the four comers in 
smoking gallery or one of the two morphean niches in the music 
parlor. Some prefer literary pursuits or discuss the war, look at 
the atlas and wonder why. 

4 :30. Second call for drinks — Judge's turn. 

5:30. Consolation game of dominoes. Formerly deck golf, now 
tabooed because of rough work. 

5:45. Cocktails, usually Bronx; formerly made by the Judge, 
but now delivered over to the Second Steward, because the labor 
entailed was simply stupendous. 

6 :00. Dinner. Welcomed food, with vivacious talk between the 
"rangers" and the Captain. 

6 :45 to 6 :48. Walking with the Captain or Chief Engineer 
who does not believe in indirect taxation. 

6 :48 to 9 :30. Smoking, sin,ging, listening to Captain play the 
piano or flute, telling stories — mostly of the ground floor variety — 
and vowing to go to Japan on the "Moorish Prince," if comfort is 
the only object and time of no account. 

9 :30. Last visit from Demon Rum in guise of the Second Stew- 
ard, who goes away empty to return laden. 

9:30 to 10:30. To bed in total darkness, becoming so accus- 
tomed to it that it will surely annoy us to sec real lights at night 
hereafter. 

I offer you this schedule in detail, because it was our life 
history for twenty-five days and we resented any interference 
with it. 

The last two days before reaching Trinidad we spent in 

[60] 



passing the coast of the Guianas — French, Dutch and Eng- 
lish. On Tuesday, one week out of Pernambuco, after 
travehng 2,085 nautical miles, we see Trinidad on the left 
and follow its mountainous northeastern coast, pass Galera 
Point, along the entire northern shore, spotting Taboga in 
the distance, and through one of the Dragon's mouths, Boca 
Grande, into the Gulf of Paria, formed by Venezuela and 
Trinidad. The other two entrances, Boca Huevos and Boca 
Mona, are smaller. These historic names were bestowed by 
Columbus some moons ago. At 9.20 we reached the har- 
bor of Port of Spain, where we lie at anchor awaiting the 
obliging agent who ought to bring us some late war 
news. The latter, in the shape of Trinidad papers, occupies 
the whole evening. We also learned that the "Indian 
Prince" — a sister ship with seven passengers — is two weeks 
overdue from Bahia, and has probably been caught by some 
German cruiser; and that the converted Cunarder, "Carma- 
nia" had sunk the converted German merchant liner "Cap 
Trafalgar" the day before we felt Pernambuco. The At- 
lantic is a wide place to play hide-and-seek in. The five 
German cruisers are giving the English a good run and be- 
ing faster for the most part, have so far eluded them. 

The next day we spend ashore while our ship coals, trav- 
ersing the three miles to and from shore in our agent's 
launch. Oil hunts up a real American, the "Singer" man, 
and we do the town, visiting the Hotel Ice House (very 
old, deriving its name from the fact that it early dispensed 
ice before the days of the artificial kind) for lime squashes, 
gin rickeys, etc., the beautiful Queen's Park Hotel for swiz- 
zles and food and the various substantial public buildings. 
We take a fine two-hour auto trip of thirty miles about town 
and into the country, "around the saddle," past cacoa 

[61] 



(whence chocolate) plantations, and some rubber, coffee and 
other tropical crops. The population of the island, mostly 
negroes, is about 370,000, of whom 55,000 inhabit the capi- 
tal, Port of Spain. They seem as happy a race as in 
Jamaica, and indeed should be, as they have the most pro- 
ductive island of the Lesser Antilles. We did not have 
time to visit the Pitch Lake, covering an area of 114 acres, 
whence cometh our asphalt pavements. Asphalt and cacao 
are the main exports of Trinidad. On board the ship again 
at 5 P.ISI., with three new American j^assengers — a married 
couple and a single gent — all returning from business in 
Trinidad and Venezuela. 

At 8.40 P.M. we leave the harbor on our last lap of 
1,086 miles to the JSIississippi mouth. For the first two days 
we steer almost due west, hugging the coast of Venezuela, 
passing in sight of the Dutch islands of Cura9oa (whence 
the cordial of that name) and Aruba, then make a more 
northerly course south of the Island of Jamaica, past the 
Caymans', and by the end of the sixth day we enter the 
Yucatan Channel, a sheet of water 110 miles wide between 
ISIexico and Cuba. Our course lies thirty miles from the 
former and 80 miles from Cape San Antonio (western ex- 
tremity of Cuba ) . Although we are having beautiful 
weather, as usual the unexpected happens — an epidemic of 
ptomaine poisoning among the seamen and stokers inter- 
feres with our progress, and we do not come in hailing 
distance of 311 Imots, the best day's record on the balmy, 
placid South Atlantic, which, by the way, is the calmest, 
most decent ocean in the world. This is now hurricane 
season in the West Indies, and we carefulh^ observe the 
barometer, and especially the barocyclonometer, a wonderful 
instrument invented by Father Algue of the Manila Ob- 

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Lighthouse at the entrance to the South Pass of the Mississippi River. 3. Mountain road 
in Trinidad. 3. Quarantine Station on the Mississippi. 4. Queen's Parlc, Port of Spain. 
5. Courtyard of Queen's Park Hotel. 6. A fishing village on the Mississippi delta. 
7. English cathedral, Port of Spain. 8. Main street, Port of Spain. 



servatory. Our reading matter still holds out, with the ad- 
dition of a batch of month-old English papers of which we 
read every line. At times we have recourse to the Pilot 
and the Ocean Directories of all editions. The Judare is 
becoming a statistical expert, so much so that the Captain 
hesitates when it comes to figures. Our regular habits con- 
tinue, with signs of mental improvement wrought by nightly 
lessons concerning cyclonic storms, tides, harbors and such 
like, violent discussions as to stars, boxing or freighting the 
compass, dog or kitten watches, creme de menthe or apricot 
brandy lights for starboard and port aspects, till, finally, 
with the aid of the lone lady passenger, our thoughts and 
voices hie to grand opera. We actually see a ship on the 
sixth night, the first since leaving Trinidad, and try in vain 
to be social. Every one is afraid of us. The day following 
our last on the broad sea (to be exact, the Gulf of Mexico), 
we see a number of ships, and now we are bold with our 
lights. We have sparkling juice to drink this night. 'Tis 
"Hurrah for the U. S. A.," not "Three Cheers for Trini- 
dad," as on the night of September 22d, or "Viva Mexico," 
as on the night of September 15th. 

About 9.30 A.M., October first, while playing furiously 
at dominoes, we spy the lighthouse of the Southern Pass 
of the Mississippi. Soon after a steam pilot boat deposits 
with us a real American pilot who supplies us with a lone 
paper. Not until now do we appreciate how famous we are 
in that the "Moorish Prince" has been reported lost, strayed 
or stolen for the past week in the American press. We are 
in the clutches of the channel by eleven and by noon are 
alongside the Quarantine dock to undergo six hours of 
sulphur fumes. The delta of the dirty Mississippi may not 
be much to look at, but to us, longing for home, it seemed 

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a veritable paradise. Going up the hundred miles of broad 
river by moonlight is fascinating but a real American at- 
traction, the mosquito, drove all of us, except the Judge, 
to the deck and smoking-room where we pass the entire 
night eating, di-inking, smoking and playing the Mexican 
national game. It passeth understanding how our legal 
member slept through that night. New Orleans at day- 
break, with its lights disappearing, is a jjretty sight but 
once is enough. We dock at seven. Eat breakfast on board, 
make a number of good souls happy with English gold that 
has been treasured since leaving Buenos Aires, say our good- 
byes and quickly satisfy Uncle Sam's custom slueths that 
we have less of value than we had when departing. A 
thoroughly happy day is spent in old New Orleans, largely 
through the efforts of Oil's friend, a most hospitable Bel- 
gian. A thirty-mile auto ride, lunching and dining on the 
best that this Southern city affords and an all-too-soon 
departure at 9.30 P.M. for New York, finished the day. 
Our Captain joined in the evening festivities, so there was 
a happy mixture of Latin embraces, Japanese salutes and 
Anglo-Saxon good-byes at the train side. Nearlj' 1,400 
miles by rail, through thirteen States, lands us in Gotham, 
Sunday, October fourth, shortly after noon. 

It may interest my reader to know that this trip of nearly 
three months covered 16,000 miles of which approximatelj' 
12,000 were by boat, the remainder by railw^ay, automobile, 
mule cart or wagon, hand-car and trolley. Splendid weather 
and smooth seas blessed the whole tour and contributed 
largely to the almost perfect score of my camera work. 
While the war and Andean snow upset our plans, the 
changes thus made contributed largely to make the trip 
unique, interesting and thrilling. 

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